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Red Acre Farm 


A Rural Comedy Drama in 
Three Acts 


, By 

GORDAN V. MAY 

Juthor of u Bar Havenf w At Random Runf etc. 




BOSTON 

WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 

rpio 



Red Acre 



Farm 

m 



CHARACTERS 

Josiah Armstrong, the owner of Red Acre Farm. 

Colonel Barnaby Strutt, “ Crawling CodwollopersR 
Jonah Jones, a farm helper. 

Squire Harcourt, who holds a mortgage. 

Harry Harcourt, his profligate son. 

Dick Randall, who seeks his fortune. 

Tom Busby, a traveling merchant. 

Amanda Armstrong, Josiah 's wife. 

Nellie Armstrong, driven from home. 

Laura Armstrong, a poor , weak sinner. 

Mrs. Barnaby Strutt, the Colonel's wife. 

“Junior,” adopted daughter of the Strutts. 

Act I.—Living-room of Armstrong’s home. Spring. 

Act II.—Garden in front of Armstrong’s home. Summer. 
Act III.—Same as Act I. Winter. 

Time :— The present. 

Place :— Rural New England. 

Costumes — Modern and appropriate. 

Time of Representation ;— Two hours and a half. 




Copyright, 1910, by Walter H. Baker & Co. 

Free for amateur performance. Professional 
stage-right reserved 


€ci.d 21H0 








Red Acre Farm 


, ACT I 

SCENE. — The living-room at Red Acre Farm, Josiah Arm¬ 
strong’s home. A plain room, plainly f urnished. Door 
c. in flat; door r. ; door l. There is a window in flat to 
the right of the door. Above door, r., is a tall clock, prac¬ 
ticable ; below the door is a sofa placed against the wall. 
Above door, l. , is a wide fireplace, and standing before it is 
a chair. A table stands down stage a little left of c., with 
a chair on either side of it. Other furniture and decora¬ 
tions ad libitum, so that they be characteristic. Josiah dis¬ 
covered seated right of table at rise, looking over papers. 
He has one hand supporting his head as if in doubt or 
despair. 

Amanda Armstrong, r. 

Amanda ( coming to back of him and laying a hand on his 
shoulder). What is the matter, Josiah ? 

Jos. ( shaking his head sadly). It’s no use, Mandy, it’s no 
use. 

Amanda. What are you talking about ? 

Jos. The mortgage. 

Amanda. The mortgage? Oh, yes. {Crosses and sits left 
of table.) When is it due ? 

Jos. To-morrow. 

Amanda. And you are going to pay it off? 

Jos. I’d like to, Mandy. God knows I would. But- 

{Hesitates.) 

Amanda. But? You haven’t got the money? Is that it? 
Jos. (nodding his head). Yep, that’s it. You know we 

3 




4 


RED ACRE FARM 


had a mighty bad season last year. Crops waren’t near up ter 
usual. And then I had so many things to buy. 

Amanda. Well, Nellie turned in nearly all she made teach¬ 
ing school. 

Jos. I know. But thar wus Laura to think of. Ye know 
she 'lowed she must have fine clothes and go ter this place and 
that place. And it all tuck money, Mandy. It all tuck 
money. 

Amanda. Well, I reckon she’ll make a good match some 
day, and then mebbe we’ll git it all back. She hain’t like 
Nellie, ye know. 

Jos. No, she hain’t. 

Amanda. That gal is satisfied to stick right here and teach 
the country youngsters all her life. She hain’t got no ambition 
like Laura. Lestwise, her ambition- 

Jos. Is worse than none at all. I know it, Mandy. Good 
Lord ! Ter think that any gal o’ mine would want to be a 
play actor. I’d much ruther see her dead. 

Amanda. So would I, Josiah. But thet is only what cums 
o’ lettin’ her mix up in them air amateur plays they give down 
at Pine Valley. I wish we’d never let her go. 

Jos. Oh, ye couldn’t stop her. She’s that headstrong. 
Especially when Dick Randall wus in it too. 

Amanda. He’s another stage-struck fool. 

Jos. Indeed he is. His father ’lows thet he stays up half 
the night a-studyin’ speeches out o’ plays by some crazy ijit by 
the name o’ Shakespeare. And then he goes out in the barn 
and struts around, and flings out his arms and hollers. Lord 
bless me ! I told ’Lige Randall thet if he wus a son o’ mine, 
I’d put him in a lunatic asylum afore he got real violent and 
hurt somebody. But thet hain’t neither here nur thar. The 
mortgage cums due to-morrer, and I hain’t got more’n enough 
ter pay the interest. 

Amanda (rising). I wish we were quit of it. 

('Comes in front of table.) 

Jos. So do I. So do I. 

Amanda. For Squire Harcourt hain’t been very accommo¬ 
dating to us; although bless me if I can understand why. 

Jos. (laughing). Ye can’t, eh ? Why, bless yer dear heart, 
Mandy, Squire Harcourt hez never forgive me fur winning ye 
away frum him, nigh forty years ago. 

Amanda. Why, Josiah ! 







RED ACRE FARM 


5 


Jos. It’s gospel truth, and ye know it. {Draws her down 
on his knee .') D’ye remember thet night down at Bascomb’s 
huskin’ party? Ye wus thar, a-lookin’ as sweeLand purty as 
a gal could. Lord ! half the boys in the county wus a-swearin’ 
by ye. But even the most conceited o’ ’em ’lowed thet the 
race wus between Hank Harcourt and me. I vowed thet night 
while I slicked my hair thet I wus a-goin’ ter have it out afore 
I cum home. And then I went out ter the barn and made a 
little speech ter dad’s old brindle cow. ( Laughs .) Lord bless 
me, I kin remember yit how old bossy looked at me, jest as if 
she wus a-wonderin' ef I had suddenly gone crazy. But I wus 
in dead earnest then, and I went to thet huskin' a-mumblin’ 
wot I wus a-goin’ ter say to ye all the way. And wusn’t I hop- 
pin’ mad when ye druve up to the gate in Hank’s rig, and he 
helped ye out so gallantly. And how close he stuck ter ye too. 
Cum ter find out arterward, he wus bent on poppin’ thet night, 
same as me. Gosh, how hard I tried ter git a chance. At last 
I saw ye slip out o’ the barn and go down by the old apple 
tree. It didn’t take me long ter foller ye. But by gum, Hank 
wus ahead o’ me. And thar I see him, a-kneelin’ at yer feet 
and a-sayin’ all kinds o’ purty things. Lord, how my fingers 
itched ter grab him by the seat o’ his britches and duck him 
in the horse trough. But I didn’t. I jest stood by and let him 
have his fling. And then how my heart; jumped fur joy. Sud¬ 
denly I saw him git up, toss his head angry like, and strut back 

to the barn. Then I cum forward, and- {Laughs.') I 

furgot all about my fine speech. I jest grabbed ye ’round the 
waist, and I said : “ Mandy, I love ye. Will ye have me ? ” 

Amanda {softly). And I said, “Yes.” 

Jos. So ye did, Mandy. God bless ye ! I hope ye’ve 
never regretted it. 

Amanda. I never have, Josiah. 

Jos. I know I hain’t give ye all the comforts I’d like to, 
but- 

Amanda {tenderly). But you’ve loved me, Josiah, all these 
years, and that’s worth more’n riches. 

Jos. So it is, Mandy. So it is. 

Amanda. And now about this mortgage? 

Jos. Oh, I s’pose we’ll have ter pay the interest and let it 
go on fur another year. 

Amanda {decidedly). No, we won’t, Josiah. We’ll pay 
that mortgage off to-morrer. 

Jos. {surprised). How? 




6 


RED ACRE FARM 


Amanda. D’ye remember grandmother’s necklace? 

Jos. The heirloom ? 

Amanda. Yes. It’s pearls, ye know, and wuth more’n 
five thousand dollars. 

Jos. But, good Lord, Mandy, ye wouldn’t sell that, now 
would ye? 

Amanda. Yes, Josiah, I would. I know it is an heirloom, 
but I am sure grandmother would be willing to have us sacrifice 
it to save our farm. (. Rises and goes toward clock. ) Yes, we 
will give that to Squire Harcourt, and mebbe some day we will 
be able to buy it back. 

Jos. (rising; overcome'). Mandy. My darlin’ gal. My 
sweetheart. 

(Amanda gets 7 iecklace from clock, and hands it to him.) 

Amanda. There, Josiah. Pay off the mortgage with grand¬ 
mother’s heirloom. 

(Jos. takes it, but still holds her hands.) 

Jos. (fervently). God bless ye, Mandy. God bless ye. 

(Draws her to him, and kisses her.) 

Enter Laura Armstrong, d. f. 

Laura (coming doivn and noticing the necklace). Why, 
father, what are you doing with great-grandmother’s necklace? 
Are you going to give it to me ? 

Jos. No, Laura. 

Laura. But you know you promised that it should be my 
wedding present. 

Jos. (hesitating). I—know—but—but- Well, ye see 

ye—hain’t married—yit. 

Amanda. We’re goin’ to give it away, Laura. 

Laura (surprised). Give it away? 

Jos. Mother don’t mean that exactly. We’re goin’ ter use 
it to pay off the mortgage. 

Laura (aghast). You are going to— to use—that? (Points.) 

Jos. Yes, child. But don’t ye worry, my gal. We’ll have 
it back ag’in afore yer married. (Near her.) Mebbe ye’ll 
git it as a weddin’ present, even ef we don’t git it back. 
(Laura turns on him, and he laughs, shaking a finger at her.) 
Oh, I know that Harry Harcourt cums here purty regular. 













RED ACRE FARM 7 

Laura {bitterly). But it is not for me he comes. It is for 
Nellie. 

Jos. Nonsense. Harry wouldn’t make up to no gal like 
Nellie. It’s you he’s arter, and jest ye go in and win him, and 
thar won’t be no trouble about yer gittin’ thet air necklace fur 
a weddin’ present. {Heplaces necklace in clock.) 

Enter Jonah Jones, d. f. He falls in the doorway. 

Amanda (starting). Lord bless me, Jonah. What on airth 
is the matter ? 

Jonah (rising slowly to his feet , rubbing his shins). Dod 
rot thet air door-step. But I say, Josiah. The old cow hez got 
her head through the bars and can’t get it out. 

Jos. Why didn’t ye take the bars down, then ? 

Jonah (slapping his knee). Wal, by gosh, I never thought 
of that. (Runs off at d. f., with much noise.) 

Jos. Thet boy’ll be the death o’ me yit. [Exit, c. 

(Laura has taken a book and thrown herself 071 sofa down 
r. and is reading.) 

Amanda (c.). Laura, dear, I expect Colonel Barnaby 
Strutt and his wife over to tea. Won’t ye jest set the table, 
while I go out and pick some strawberries and hull ’em ? 

Laura ( impatiently). Oh, let Nellie do it when she comes 
home from school. I am too interested in this novel. 

Amanda (patiently). All right, dear. \_Exit l., sloivly. 

Laura (closing book and rising to a sitting posture). So 
the poor girl, Lucille, married the marquis after all. (Mus- 
ingly.) Oh, I wish I could marry one. And they think 
Harry Harcourt is coming here to see me ? I wish he was. 
His father is rich. He will have plenty of money one of these 
days. But no. It is Nell. Nell, with her baby face and 
winning ways. Bah ! , (Rises.) If I only had some really 

fine clothes, I might- (Pauses near clock.) And they are 

going to give that necklace away for this farm. And some day 
the very thing they promised to me will belong to Nell. Oh, 
how I hate it all. (Opens clock; takes out necklace.) If I 
only had it, what dresses I could buy. Silks and satins that 
would dazzle even Harry Harcourt. And they always said it 
was to be mine. (Stamps her foot angrily.) Oh, it is a 
shame. I’d like to- 





8 


RED ACRE FARM 


(Noise outside. She quickly shoves the necklace in her 
bosom .) 

Enter Junior, d. f. 

Jun. Hello, Laura. 

Laura. What do you want, Mehitabel ? 

Jun. I want to be called right, fur one thing. Ye know 
my name hain’t Mehitabel. 

Laura. Of course it is. Only your adopted father took it 
into his silly head to call you Mehitabel Junior. 

Jun. Wal, thet wus so’s folks wouldn’t git me mixed with 
his wife. Land sakes, how I hate the name. I’m glad he tuk 
ter callin’ me Junior. It sounds a heap better, don't ye think? 

Laura (idly). Oh, I don’t think anything about it. I 
don’t care. 

Jun. No, I reckon ye don’t. Yer too lazy ter think, and 
too stupid to care. 

Laura (severely). Junior ! 

Jun. Oh, ye don’t like the truth, do ye? I reckon ye 
hain’t used ter hearin’ it around hum. 

Laura. I’d like to slap your impudent face. 

Jun. Ef ye tried it on, I’d bite yer fingers off, that I would. 
(Crash outside. Enter Jonah, d. f.) Fur the land’s sakes, 
Jonah, wot air ye tryin’ ter do? 

Jonah (coining down c.). Oh, nuthin’. I kicked over the 
milk pail, thet’s all. I wus in such a hurry ter see ye. Say, 
wot d’ye s’pose we’ve got down in the barn? 

Jun. Oh, I don’t know. 

Jonah. Guess. 

Jun. Kittens ? 

Jonah. Nop. 

Jun. Pups ? 

Jonah. Nop. 

Jun. A calf? 

Jonah. Nop. 

Jun. A lamb? 

Jonah. Nop. 

Jun. Well, I give it up. 

Jonah. A live skunk. 

Jun. Oh, shucks ! 

Jonah. Cum on down and have a look at it. 

Jun. I don’t want to. It stinks. 












RED ACRE FARM 9 

Jonah. No, it don’t. Lestwise, not so much. Ye see, I 
dumped Laura’s bottle o’ cologne over him this mornin’. 

Laura. What! 

Jonah ( without noticing her). And thet sorter helped make 
him smell a little better. Cum on. 

(Both up stage at d. f.) 

Jun. ( looking off). Oh, here cums Nellie and her feller. 

[Exit d. f., followed by Jonah. 

Laura {at window). Harry Harcourt. And still they are 
blind enough to say that he is coming here to see me. Oh, I 
wish I had fine clothes. I would win him yet. {Catches at 
necklace.) If I only owned this. [Exit, r. 

Enter Harry Harcourt and Nellie Armstrong, d. f. 

Har. Of course you are tired. Who would not be, who 
had to stand all day and try and knock some sense into the 
heads of such a lot of numskulls as there are in that school ? 
If it was me, I know I should kill a few of them within a week. 

Nell. ( laying aside books, shawl, etc. ; laughing). Then 
I fear you would get a greater rest than you would care for. A 
very long one, in fact. {Seated on sofa.) 

Har. No doubt. But why don’t you give it up ? [Seated 
beside her.) You have education. You are pretty— {as Nell. 
makes a gesture) oh, yes, you are. You have talent as an 
actress. I have seen you in some of those plays down at Pine 
Valley, and you compare favorably with many a professional 
that I have seen in New York. Why don’t you go to the 
metropolis ? You would have no difficulty in getting a posi¬ 
tion far better than trying to teach a lot of country louts their 
letters. 

Nell. That has always been my one ambition. But— 
but—no. Father and mother are both opposed to the stage. 

Har. Oh, pshaw ! You have got yourself to think of, as 
well as them. Come, what do you say ? I will take you to 
New York and introduce you to a friend of mine who will get 
you a good place. Something where you can work up to a 
star. 

Nell, {shaking her head). No. I shall probably never 
go. If I did— {decidedly) it would be—alone. 

Har. {frow?iing, then laughing). You would have a mighty 
hard time of it — alone. 




10 


RED ACRE FARM 


Nell, {rising). Oh, I would risk all that. I am no baby. 

Har. No, but you haven’t cut your wisdom teeth yet. 
You need some one who is wise. Some one who has been 
there, and knows the snares and pitfalls. ( Rises and goes to 
her.) Come, now, don’t be foolish. Let us kiss and make up. 

{Attempts to kiss her. She slaps his face.) 

Nell, {crossing to l.). I may not have cut my wisdom 
teeth yet, Mr. Harcourt, but I think they are almost ready to 
come through the gums. 

Har. (r., aside). Curse her. 

Enter Colonel Barnaby Strutt and Mrs. Barnaby Strutt, 
d. F. 

Mrs. S. {to Nell. ). Howdy, Nellie? Whar’s yer mother? 
{To Har.) Good-afternoon, Harry. Is yer father well ? I 
haven’t seen him in quite a spell. {To Nell.) How’s yer 
old mare ? I heard it wus threatened with the glanders. If it 
is, thar’s nuthin’ better than Bullock’s Glander Cure. My 
uncle’s brother-in-law had a horse thet wus tuk with the glanders 
once, and he used jest one bottle o’ Bullock’s Glander Cure, 
and the horse wus better than he ever wus before. {To Har.) 
Did the Squire buy Judson’s pasture field thet he wus thinkin’ 
o’ buyin’ ? Lordy me, but it is terrible hot to-day fur May, 
hain’t it ? 

Col. Hot! Crawling Codwollopers ! Ye don’t call this 
hot, now do ye? Why, it hain’t nuthin’. Why, when I wus 
in Timbucktoo, I remember one day when it wus a hundred 
and ninety-two in the shade. {General ejaculations .) Fact ! 
We wus away in the interior, and our provisions hed about 
run out. Didn’t even have matches ter build a fire with. 
Suddenly, a flock o’ sea-gulls- 

Nell. A flock of sea-gulls ? Colonel Strutt! 

Col. Fact! I never could quite understand how them air 
sea-gulls got a thousand miles ere so frum water. But thar 
they were. And as they flew over our heads, they began to 
lay eggs. {Ejaculations.) Fact ! Crawling Codwollopers, 
it jest fairly rained eggs fur a while. And d’ye know, it wus so 
hot, and so moist, and so steamy like, thet when them air eggs 
struck the earth, they wus hard boiled. Every danged one o’ 
’em. Fact! 

Har. {sneeringly). Wonderful. 








RED ACRE FARM 


I I 

Col. Wusn’t it ? I never saw the beat in all my life. And 
I have seen some mighty curious things, too. 

Mrs. S. But whar’s yer ma, Nellie? She invited us over 
ter tea. 

Nell. I think I saw her in the strawberry patch as I came 
in. I will go and call her. ( Going.) 

Mrs. S. Oh, ye needn’t mind. I’ll go too. I hear ye got 
some fine berries this year. 

Nell. We have. And so large and sweet. Father brought 
in one yesterday that was almost as large as a walnut. 

Col. Crawling Codwollopers ! A walnut? Huh! That’s 

nuthin*. Why, when I wus in Timbucktoo - (Mrs. S. 

and Nell. exeunt d. f. Col. turns to Har.) When I wus in 

Timbucktoo- (Har. exits , r. Col. glances about.) 

When—I—wus—in—Timbucktoo- Huh ! 

\_Exit l., in disgust. 

Enter Har., r. 

Har. Confound him and his Timbucktoo. He is forever 
talking about that place, and I don’t believe he was ever out¬ 
side the county in his life. So our little schoolmarm does not 
take to me, eh ? That slap left a sting that I shall not forget 
in a hurry. She will not have me? Oh, very well. I will 
try her sister then. Either one will do for a lark. 

Enter Laura, r. 

Laura. Good-afternoon, Mr. Harcourt. 

Har. Good-afternoon, Miss Armstrong. 

Laura. I am so glad to see you, I - 

(Hesitates ; speaks coquettishly.) 

Har. ( gallantly ). And I am glad to be here. You have 
a very pleasant home. 

Laura. And yet, how I loathe it all. There is no novelty, 
no variety. No chance for ambition. It is the same old grind. 
The same faces, the same ground, and trees, and sky. Bah ! 
I am sick of it all. I long to get out into the world. To do 
something. To be somebody. 

(Laura seated on sofa.) 

Har. (c., aside). This conquest will be easy. (Aloud.) 
So you really have ambitions, eh ? Perhaps I can help you to 
attain them. 






12 


RED ACRE FARM 


Laura (< quickly). Oh, Harry—ere—I—mean—Mr. Har- 
court. 

Har. {bending near her}. Call me Harry if you like. May 
I call you Laura? 

Laura {after a moment answering with mock shyness). 
Yes. 

Har. {seated by her side). Then tell me, what would you 
- like to be ? 

Laura. I’d like first of all to get away from this place. To 
go to the city. To see life. To drink deep of the cup of 
pleasure. To—to—live. I merely exist here. 

Har. Suppose I was to offer you the chance you so much 
desire ? 

Laura. You? Oh, Harry, don’t mock me. 

Har. I am not. 1 mean it. We will go to New York. 
We will taste of life and pleasure and happiness to its full. We 
will know what it is to live. 

Laura {clasping her hands in ecstasy ). Oh, Harry ! 

Har. {bending near her). Will you go? 

Laura. Will 1 ? Indeed, yes. When and where you 
choose. 

Har. Let us seal the bargain then. (Kisses her; rises.) 
Keep up your heart, my dear. You shall have all that you 
wish, and more. As soon as I can make the necessary arrange¬ 
ments to get away—heigho for New York, and a revel. {Up 
stage.) Good-bye. [Exit, d. f. 

Laura {exhibiting her joy). Can it really be true? Am I 
at last to see the fulfilment of my heart’s greatest wish? 
{Rises.) To go out into the world, and—and conquer? Oh, 
it seems impossible. And yet—he has said so, and I will be¬ 
lieve him. We shall go to the great city. We shall see life 

and happiness. We shall love—we shall- ( Pauses , then 

suddenly presses her hands to her heart.) Marry? He did 
not speak of marriage. He did not even say he loved me. 
{Pause. She appears startled.) My God ! can he—mean- 

{Buries her face in her hands.) 

Enter Tom Busby, d. f. 

Tom {glancing about). Good -afternoon, everybody. 

Laura {turning quickly). Eh ? 

Tom {coming down c., bowing). I beg your pardon. My 
name is Busby. Tom Busby. My card. {Offers her a card.) 










RED ACRE FARM 


*3 

I am a traveling merchant. I have some fine things to sell, 
and I also buy anything I can get. Wouldn’t you like to look 
over my goods? 

Laura. No— I - 

Tom. I have some nice silks and satins. Latest styles. 
Ffhe goods and neat patterns. Just the thing for dresses. You 
ought to have some, you are such a fine-looking lady. 

Laura. I—I— have no money. 

Tom. Maybe you have something you would like to sell, 
then? (. Looks about the room.') I buy everything. Furni¬ 
ture, laces, clocks, silverware, jewelry. (Laura starts.) Ah! 
You have some jewelry, eh? I will pay the highest prices for 

it. Rings, bracelets, studs, watches, necklaces- (Laura 

grasps at the necklace in her bosom. Tom catches her handy 
and draws out the necklace.) Ah. A fine necklace. Pearls. 
Ummm. If you have no money, why don’t you sell this? I 
will give you fifty dollars for it. 

Laura. Fifty dollars ? It is worth more than that. 

Tom. Oh, yes, if you went to buy it. But you must not 
forget that it is second-hand; and so old-fashioned, I couldn’t 
sell it to anybody this way. I would have to have the stones 
all reset; and that costs a lot of money. Well, say seventy- 
five dollars then. ( Takes out wallet.) Shall I count out 
seventy-five dollars? 

Laura. No — no— I — I- 

Tom. Wait. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. You are such a 
fine-looking lady, and I know you want some fine clothing. 
( Counts out money.) Here is one hundred dollars. 

Lauka ( hesitating ). I — I - 

Tom. Yes, sure. Of course. One hundred dollars. 
Count it. 

_ {He carefully places the money in her hand. She clutches at 
it, and he slowly draivs the necklace from her fingers.) 

Laura. Oh, heavens ! What have I done ? What have 
I done ? 

Tom (. slowly retiring up stage). Only completed a little 
business transaction, my dear lady. Now you can buy some 
really fine clothing. 

{Bows and quietly exits , d. f.) 

Laura {standing c., in deep thought). Yes, yes, I will. 
It was mine anyway. They always said so. Why should I 









RED ACRE FARM 


H 

not take it ? It was worthless here. Now I shall have what I 
want. And perhaps—who knows—one day I shall be Mrs. 
Harcourt. One day? (Sighs, then speaks vehemently.') I 
will. I will. [Exit, r. 


Enter Jonah and Jun., d. f. # 

Jonah. Well, of course ef ye don’t want it, ye needn’t 
have it. 

Jun. No, I don’t want it. Land sakes, Mrs. Strutt would 
sure have a conniption fit, ef I wus ter bring a skunk—a real, 
live skunk, inter the house. 

Jonah. I’m awfully sorry, June. I kinder had hopes thet 
ye might like it,—er—seein’ as I wus the one who caught it. 

Jun. I’ll tell ye wot ye kin do. 

Jonah. Wot? 

Jun. You kill it. 

Jonah. Yep. 

Jun. And skin it. 

Jonah. All right. 

Jun. And git old Barstow ter cure the hide. 

Jonah. And then ye kin make a pair o’ ear tabs, eh ? 

Jun. No, but I kin make a little cap, or a muff. 

Jonah (slapping his knee). Gosh, I never thought o’ that. 
I’ll do it, the fust thing to-morrer mornin’. 

Jun. All right. But come, let us set Mrs. Armstrong’s 
table for her. Poor, dear woman. Thar she wus, out in the 
sun, a-pickin’ strawberries; and that lazy gal, Laura, a-layin’ 
in here on her back, a-readin’ some love story. She jest makes 
me sick, she does. 

Jonah. Wal, I kinder reckon it’s purty nigh all their own 
fault. They let her have her own way and do jest as she 
pleases. Nell, she’s gotter git out and teach school. But 

Laura- Huh! (Confidentially.) I tell ye, June. Wot 

she needs is a darn good wollopin’. Ef old Josiah would only 
take a nice big shingle and give it to her, good and plenty— 
well—she’d have ter take her meals off a shelf fur a while, and 
that would keep her frum layin’ down so much, anyway. 

Jun. Where does Mrs. Armstrong keep her dishes ? 

Jonah. Out in the pantry. Cum on and I’ll show ye. 
(Both exeunt l. and reenter with dishes, which they proceed to 
place on the table. While Jun. is putting on the cloth and 
arranging the dishes, Jonah exits and returns with several 





RED ACRE FARM 


RED ACRE FARM 15 

\ * I 

plates.) Say, June, d’ye remember the circus thet wus here 
last fall ? 

Jun. Do I? Wal, I jest reckon I do. Didn’t I coax two 
shillin’s out o’ old Strutt, so’s 1 could go? 

Jonah. Yep, and I fed the animals, and they give me a 
free ticket. Wal, say, d’ye remember that gagler? 

Jun. The wot? I don't remember any animal like that. 
Did it have a long neck ? 

Jonah. No, no. I mean the feller wot held a feather on 
his nose, and throwed balls and plates and things inter the air, 
and caught ’em all when they cum down. 

Jun. Oh, yep, I remember him. He wus a slick one, 
wusn’t he ? 

Jonah. Oh, I don’t know. I reckon I could do it myself. 
Jun. ( clapphig her hands'). Could ye, Jonah ? 

Jonah. Sure. I’ve tried that air feather business already. 
And ef I hadn’t a-sneezed, it would have stayed thar all right. 
But the danged thing tickled my nose so that I had to kerchoo. 
I never tried the balls and plates and things, but I know it 
must be easy. Ye jest watch me. 


{He takes several plates , tosses them in the air , and makes 
frantic efforts to catch them , hut misses every one. They 
smash on the floor. Jun., who has seated herself on the 
edge of table, jumps down with an exclamation.) 

Jun. Glory be! 

Jonah. Wal, that wus only the fust time. Next time I’ll 
do better. 

Jun. Next time? I don’t reckon thar’ll be any next time 
when Mrs. Armstrong sees them air plates all smashed to pieces. 

Jonah ( staring , then slappi?ig his knee). By gosh ! I never 
thought o’ that. 

Enter Amanda, Mrs. S. and Col., d. f. 

Amanda. Gracious, whatever is all the racket about ? 

Jonah. Wal, ye see- {Pauses.) 

Jun. It wus this way. We thought we’d set the table fur 
ye- 

Mrs. S. And ye’ve broke some o’ Mrs. Armstrong s best 
chiny dishes, eh? I’ll bet ye wus a-carryin’ on. Now ye go 
right hum and feed the chickens, and then ye kin git yer own 
supper and go ter bed. Now go, afore I cut a switch and lay 
it across yer back. (Jun. starts up stage with a toss of her 




i6 


RED ACRE FARM 


head.') And don’t ye dare give me no sassy looks, er I’ll whale 
ye when I do git hum. [ Exit Jun., d. f. 

Col. ( after viewing the broken dishes). Crawling Codwol- 
lopers ! Did ye break all o’ them air plates, Jonah Jones ? 

Jonah ( whimpering ). Y-e-s, s-i-r. 

Col. ( catching him by the collar). Wal, yew kin jest cum 
out to the barn with me. I’ll teach ye to break dishes. Why, 
when I wus in Timbucktoo- [ Exit d. f., with Jonah. 

Mrs. S. Lordy me, but thet wus a dreadful shame. 

(Amanda begins to gather np the broken pieces.) 

Enter Nell., d. f. 

Nell. ( noticing dishes and beginning to help pick np the 
pieces while speaking). Why, mother dear—did you let the 
dishes fall ? 

Amanda. No, it wus Jonah and Junior that did it. 

Nell. Well, you go out on the porch with Mrs. Strutt and 
rest a while. I will set the table. 

Amanda. All right. Come, Mrs. Strutt, and I’ll show ye 
that new patchwork pattern I wus a-tellin’ ye about. 

Mrs. S. And don’t furgit thet air receipt fur strawberry 
jam. [Exeunt Amanda and Mrs. S., l. 

Nell. ( after picking up all the pieces). Six plates. And 
mother’s best china, too. Let me see. Perhaps if I do not 
buy that new hat I was thinking of, I may be able to save 
enough to get her some others. [Exit, r. 

Enter Dick Randall, d. f. He is dressed for traveling and 
carries a suit case. Looks about. 

Dick. No one here. I wonder where she can be ? (Enter 
Nell, r., with dishes.) Nellie! 

Nell. Dick Randall! What are you doing here? 

Dick. I have come to say good-bye, Nellie. 

Nell. What? (Sets dishes on table and faces him.) 
Where are you going ? 

Dick. To New York. 

Nell. Oh, Dick. 

Dick (crossing and sitting on sofa). Yes. I cannot stay 
here any longer. Perhaps I am wrong. Father says I am. 
But if so, I cannot help it. I have ambitions. I want to make 
a name for myself. What chance have I here ? What have I 
to look forward to save the drudgery of the farm ? To get up at 






RED ACRE FARM 


l 7 


four o’clock and follow the plow all day in the hot sun. To 
hoe and rake and dig and thrash. Milk cows and feed stock. 
And all for what ? A mere pittance. Not enough to keep 
body and soul together. There may have been a time when a 
man of life and ambition could gain a competence at the work. 
But that time has passed now. The creamery people grind 
you down to the last farthing, and then very often refuse your 
milk. The accursed commission brokers take your stock and 
either let it rot in their cellars or pay you about half what it is 
worth. Oh, don’t tell me. I have watched the thing work for 
many years. It is a slavery worse than that for which our 
forefathers fought in ’6r. And when you are old? What? It 
is a back, bent and broken with toil. Rheumatism. A withered 
spirit, and a grouty disposition. No, Nellie, I—I—cannot go 
on with only such a prospect before me. Good God, I would 
go mad. 

Nell. But what do you intend to do? 

Dick. Go to New York. Other men with a strong body 
and a brave heart have gone there and gained a fortune from 
their toil. So will I. 

Nell, {seated by his side). But how, Dick? How? Have 
you no plans ? 

Dick. Well—er —yes, Nell, I have—but- 

Nell. Tell me, then. 

Dick {hesitating). I—I—am afraid you will only laugh at 
me. Everybody has, and I- 

Nell. Oh, Dick, you know I wouldn’t do that. Come, 
tell me your ambitions. What is it you wish to be ? 

Dick (speaking after a pause). An actor. 

Nell. Dick! 

Dick. I want to thrill people. I want them to feel the 
emotions I feel. I want to sway them. To make them laugh 
and cry at my bidding. I—I—want to make them better. 

Nell. To make them better ? 

Dick. Yes. The stage, rightly directed, is a greater agent 
for good, a greater force for the betterment of humanity, men¬ 
tally and morally, than all the pulpits in Christendom. For 
you can appeal to them with the senses. You can make them 
see and hear and feel the effects of sin. You can show them 
the gain of righteousness. You can force home upon them the 
great truths of morality, chastity, aye, and Christianity as well, 
with greater power than a Demosthenes can do it with the lips 
alone. 




i8 


RED ACRE FARM 


Nell, {fervently). Oh, Dick. I hope—I shall pray that 
you may succeed. 

Dick. Thank you, Nellie. It will be an added inspiration 
to me to know that there is at least one—friend in this place 
who believes in me. 

Nell. Believes in you, Dick ? Of course I do. I always 
have. I—I—only regret that—that—I cannot—go—with you. 

Dick ( surprised ). Nellie ? 

Nell. You have struck a responsive chord in my heart, 
Dick. ( Pauses , then rises and goes c., with an embarrassed 
laugh.) Some day, when you are famous, I will come to you 
and ask you to teach me your art. 

Dick (rising). Teach you, Nellie? Ah, if I could only 
teach you one thing, I would- 

Nell. What is it, Dick? 

Dick. To— to—love me. 

Nell. ( turning away). Oh, Dick. 

Dick (with a despairing gesture). Oh, I know full well 
that I cannot. ( A pause.) Well, good-bye. (. He holds out 
a hand , which she does not take. Pause.) I hope I haven’t 
insulted you, Nellie ? I— I —should not have spoken. For¬ 
give me. I was presumptuous. I am sorry. {He turns her 
face toward him. She is crying.) What? Crying, Nellie? 

Nell. Yes—I—oh, Dick, I— I —don’t want you to—to go. 

Dick. Don’t want me to go? Why not? 

Nell, {shyly). Because—because. {Pause.) Because you 
have already taught me that lesson. 

Dick {joyously). Nellie! Honest? 

Nell, {laughing). Honest, Dick. 

{He takes her in his arms.) 

Dick. Oh, you have made me very happy. You have 
given me the one incentive I lacked. I shall go now, fully ar¬ 
mored for the fight. Some day, with name and fame, 1 will 
come back to claim you. 

Nell. And if you do not—I will come to you. 

Dick. Good-bye, Nellie, and may God bless you. 

Nell, {solemnly). Mispah, Dick. 

Dick (with bowed head). Amen. 

{Kisses her and exits , d. f. Nell stands at door watching 
him.) 


Enter Jos., l. 






RED ACRE FARM 


19 


Jos. What, gal ? The tea not ready yit ? 

Nell, {turning). Eh? 

Jos. Come, come. It is high time we had supper. 

Nell, {coming down stage). Father, I want to speak to you. 

Jos. Wal, what is it? Can’t it wait? Thar is Mrs. Strutt 
and the Colonel out thar on the stoop, a-waitin* fur suthin’ 
to eat. 

Nell. It will be ready in a few minutes. (Jos. seated right 
of table.) Father, my term at the school will soon be up. 
When it is, I—I—want to go to New York. 

Jos. {aghast). To New York? Why, good heavens, gal! 
Wot fur? Why don’t ye know that place is the modern 
Sodom and Gomorrah ? Don’t ye know it’s Babylon ? Gal, 
are ye crazy ? 

Nell, {quietly). No, father. 

Jos. Wal, then, why- 

Nell, {interrupting). Listen, father. I have taught school 
for three years now, and I have given you nearly all I made. 
Now I want to begin doing something for myself. 

Jos. Wal, hain’t ye ? Lord bless me ! You’ve satisfied the 
school committee, and they’re willin’ to keep ye as long as ye 
want to stay. Why, it’s a life job. Wot more d’ye want? 

Nell. But I do not want to teach school all my life. 

Jos. Wal, mebbe ye’ll git married some day. 

Nell. Perhaps I will. But I am not going to wait for that. 
I am going to New York. 

Jos. And vvot’s to become o’ us ? Don’t ye think o’ me or 
yer mother, ye ungrateful gal ? 

Nell. Cannot Laura take my place as a bread-winner? 

Jos. Laura? No, of course not. Laura has ambitions. 

Nell. So have I, father. 

Jos. {angrily). Yes, I know. To be a play-actor. To go 
gallivanting around the country with a lot o’ ragmuffins. A-skip- 
pin’ about a filthy stage, and a-shovvin’ yerself off fur money. 
Ugh ! I’m ashamed o’ ye. 

Nell. Oh, father, you do not understand. 

Jos. Don’t I ? Huh ! I reckon I’ve read all about it. 

Nell. Nevertheless, I want to go. 

Jos. {striking table with his fist). I refuse to let ye. 

Nell, {quietly but decidedly). Then, father, I shall go 
without your permission. 

Jos. {rising). What! What! Gal, d’ye know wot yer 
sayin’ ? 





20 red acre farm 

Nell. I do, father. 

Jos. Ye never acted like this afore. 

Nell. And I would not do so now if you would but be 
reasonable. 

Jos. Reasonable! Reasonable? Ye call makin’ terms 
with the devil being reasonable? No, sir. Gal, I want ye to 
understand this. I refuse to let ye go. If ye dare to disobey 
me, ye are no longer a daughter o’ mine. I’ll wash my hands 
o’ ye. ( Enter Laura, r., unobserved. She remains neat- 
door.') You’ll be lost. A play-actor? Good Lord ! A play¬ 
actor is a scoundrel, a villain, a thief. They’re everything 
that is devilish and bad. If ye hain’t entirely lost to all shame, 
think well on this afore ye decide. 

Nell. I have thought about it, father. Long and earnestly. 
I cannot go on forever with nothing but the dull, commonplace 
life of a country school-teacher before me. My mind is made 
up. I shall go. 

Jos. Then go, and may- 

Enter Amanda, d. f., followed by Mrs. S. and Col. Laura 
exits r. , at their entrance. 

Amanda. Well, well, hain’t tea ready yit? 

Nell. I will go and fetch it at once, mother. [ Exit , R. 

(Jos. sinks limply into chair right of table.) 

Amanda (noticing him , and coming quickly to his side). 
Why, what on airth is the matter, Josiah? 

Jos. Nuthin’, Mandy. 

Col. Ye look kinder bill-yus, Josiah. And ef ye air, thar 
hain’t nuthin’ better’n swamproot tea. Why, when I wus in 
Timbucktoo, I remember one day when everybody in the party 
wus tuk sick with bill-yusness. Fact! Every dang one. 
Crawling Codwollopers ! Jest think o’ nigh onter fifty thou¬ 
sand men, all tuk sick with bill-yusness. Fact ! Some o’ ’em 
fairly turned green, they wus so far gone. But, sir, I jest ups 
and makes a pot full o’ swamproot tea, and then I lines ’em all 
up and makes ’em march by me, and I give each one o’ ’em a 
dipper full o’ thet tea, and would ye believe it, it wus so good 
that in less than an hour we wus on the march again, and some 
o’ ’em wus fairly runnin’ they felt so good. Fact! 

Enter Nell., r., with tea things, which she sets on the table. 


r 





RED ACRE FARM 


21 


Amanda. Come, now, Mrs. Strutt. And you, too, Colonel. 
I’m sure ye must be hungry. 

Mrs. S. Hungry ? Of course he is. He’s allers hungry. 

Col. Crawling Codwollopers! Ye don’t call wot I eat 
bein’ hungry, now do ye ? Why, when I wus in Timbucktoo- 

Enter Squire Harcourt, d. f. 

Jos. (risijig ). Good-afternoon, Hank. 

Mrs. S. Howdy, Squire Harcourt ? How’s yer shoats makin’ 
out this year? I heerd ye had bad luck with the yearlings last 
fall. Law me, but it’s terrible when yer pork goes back on ye. 
But we’re doin’ right well with our chickens. Gittin' as many 
as forty eggs a day, now. Have ye set any yit? I s’pose yer 
wife is well? I didn’t see her at the Ladies’ Aid meetin’ last 
week. “ More’n likely, she’s ailin’,” sez I. But it do look 
like a good year fur fruits, and you’ve got some fine peach stock 
on yer place, Squire Harcourt. 

Jos. I s’pose ye cum to see me about the mortgage? 

Squire. Yes, it comes due to-morrow, you know. I 
thought I would drop in and let you know. You will have the 
interest ready, I suppose ? 

Jos. Yes, and the principal, too. 

Squire. The principal, eh ? I really did not think you 
could have saved four thousand dollars so soon. But no mat¬ 
ter. If you have, so much the better. 

Enter Laura, r. ; she remains up r. c. 

Jos. Wal, I’ll ’low I didn’t save it, Squire, but I’ve got the 
wherewithal to pay ye, nevertheless. Ye remember Grand¬ 
mother Baird’s pearl necklace, don’t ye? 

Squire. Oh, yes. A very fine affair it was. And worth 
considerable, too, I understand. 

Jos. Worth more’n five thousand dollars, Squire. (Laura 
starts.') She willed it to Mandy when she died. 

Squire. Yes, I know she did. 

Jos. Wal, we’ve decided—Mandy and me—to give ye that 
in payment for the mortgage. 

Squire. The heirloom ? 

Jos. Yep, the heirloom. We want to be quit o’ thet mort¬ 
gage, Mandy and me. 

Squire (,to Amanda). Do you agree to this, Amanda? 

Amanda. I do, Hank. Anything I’ve got belongs to 







22 


RED ACRE FARM 


Josiah, and I will gladly give it for his sake. He has shared 
everything he has with me all through our life, and I will do 
the same. 

Squire. Well, so be it, then. I will take the necklace in 
full settlement of the mortgage. Shall I come over to-morrow 
and fix up the affair? 

Jos. D’ye happen to have the mortgage by ye now? 

Squire ( taking a legal document from his pocket). Yes. 

Jos. Then we might as well settle it now, fust as last. 
( Goes to clock , opens it and discovers that the necklace is gone.) 
My God ! ( Staggers down stage.) Mandy, the necklace is 

gone ! 

Amanda. Gone? No, no, it can’t be, Josiah. 

{She rushes to clock and searches hurriedly.) 

Jos. It is, it is, I tell ye. 

Amanda {slowly). Yes, it is gone. We have been robbed. 

Jos. And by whom ? It wus thar not half an hour ago, fur 
I put it thar myself. Who hez been here since ? Thar’s Colo¬ 
nel Strutt- 

Col. {indignantly). Crawling Codwollopers, Josiah Arm¬ 
strong, ye surely wouldn’t go fur to say thet I- 

Jos. {interrupting). No, no, Colonel. Neither you nur 
yer wife knew it wus thar. Neither did Junior, nur Jonah, fur 
that matter. Who else hez been here ? Mandy. 

Amanda. But, Josiah- 

Jos. No, no, my little gal, I know it wusn’t you. Laura? 

Laura {in an injured tone). Why, father, do you think I 
would steal it when you yourself have often told me that one 
day it was’to be mine ? 

Jos. Of course ye wouldn’t, Laura. Who else? {Looks 
about and discovers Nell.) Ah ! Nell. Nell. The gal that 
wants to be a play-actor. Who has jest defied her old dad. 
{Points an accusing finger at her and speaks decidedly.) You. 
You are the thief ! 

Nell, {aghast). What! Oh, no, no, father. {Palls on 
her knees before him.) You don’t mean that? You—you— 
cannot mean that you think I would rob you ? 

{Buries her face in her hands.) 

Jos. Don’t I ? Didn’t I tell ye that all play-actors wus 
rogues and villains, and—yes, and thieves ? And ye want to 
be one too. Want to be so bad that ye will dare defy yer own 









RED ACRE FARM 23 

father and go against him. That is enough. Ye are the 
thief. 

Nell, (sobbing). No, no. ( Turns to Amanda, who has 
sunk in chair left of table.) Mother, have you no word for 
me? Surely you do not believe - 

Amanda. Confess, my gal, and then mebbe - 

Nell. Confess ? My God ! To what ? I cannot confess. 
I did not take it. 

Jos. Ye see? All o’ ye bear witness. She not only robs 
her poor old father and mother of the means to clear them¬ 
selves of debt, but she brazenly denies it. 

Nell. No, no, father - 

( 1 Catches his hand , but he flings her off.) 

Jos. Go ’way. Don’t touch me. Ye are accursed. Ye 
play-actor. Ye thief. Go. Go with the rest o’ the filth o’ 
the earth. That’s where ye belong now. 

(Situations : —Amanda in chair left of table, her face buried 
in her hands. Col. and Mrs. S. are up l., near fire¬ 
place. Squire up r., near window. Laura l. c., near 
door. Jos. stands R. c., near Nell., who is c., on her 
knees.) 

Nell. ( holding out her hands appealingly). Father ! " 

Jos. Don’t call me that again. Ye’re no longer a child o’ 
mine. (. He goes to R. wall and turns a picture.) Thar ! 
I’ve turned yer picture to the wall. Ye’re dead to this house 
forever. Go. 

(.Points to D. f. Music pianissimo to end of act.) 

Nell, (sobbing, rises slowly to her feet. Once more holds 
out her hands to Jos., who turns his back on her. She crosses 
slowly to R., stopping a moment by the side of Amanda’s chair. 
Speaks brokenly betwee?7- her sobs). Good-bye—mother. ( Goes 
slowly up stage. Gets her hat and a shawl. Goes to d. f., 
where she pauses and speaks solemnly.) May a just God for¬ 
give you all the wrong you have done me this day. 

(1 Goes slowly out at d. f. as curtam falls.) 





ACT II 


SCENE .—The exterior of Red Acre Farmhouse, in summer. 
At back is a drop representing woods or fields, and in 
front of it , leaving room for entrance from either side, runs 
a stone wall with an opening at C. At r. is a set cottage 
with a practicable door from above which projects a sign 
legible from the front bearing the legend 11 Hoarders." At 
the lower corner of the house, at R. i E., stands a bench with 
a wash-tub standing on it. A clothes-line is stretched near 
it in any convenient fashion. Opposite l. 3 e ., a little left 
of C., is a well-curb with a winch and bucket. The well is 
trapped so that a man can descend into it out of sight. A 
rustic seat stands across L. 1 E. Jun. discovered at rise , 
washing at a tub down r. and hanging up the clothes on a 
line stretched across the stage. She may be singing a song 
as she works. 

Enter Jonah, r. u.e., with a pail, brush and some theatrical 
posters. 

Jonah ( coming down). Howdy, June? Wotcher doin’ 
here ? 

Jun. ( who has not noticed him). Land sakes, Jonah, how 
ye scared me. Wot am I doin’ ? Wot d’ye s’pose I’m doin’ ? 
D’ye think I’m dressin’ fur a ball er gittin’ ready to take a ride 
in one o’ them new-fangled things thet go a-whizzin’ by here 
without no horses? Wot am I doin’ here? Huh ! Hain’t 
ye got no eyes? Why, I’m helpin’ Mrs. Armstrong with her 
wash. 

Jonah. I got a job too. 

Jun. Yes? Wot is it? 

Jonah. Puttin’ up these air pitchers fur the great show 
wot’s a-cummin’ down ter Pine Valley to-night. Greatest 
show that ever struck the place. That’s wot the pitchers say, 
and that’s wot the feller said that give ’em to me to stick up; 
so I reckon it must be so. 

Jun. Oh, Jonah, air ye goin’ ? 

Jonah. Yep, and I’m a-goin’ ter take you, too. 

Jun. Me? {Claps her hands.) Honest? 

24 




RED ACRE FARM 


*5 


Jonah. Honest. 

Jun. But whar’ll ye git the money ? 

Jonah. Money ? Huh ! Why, ye see, I reckon I know a 
thing er two, I do. When thet air feller met me down at 
Willis’s store and asked me ef 1 knew anybody who would put 
up their pitchers, I said : “If thar’s two tickets fur the show 
in it, I’ll do it myself.” 

Jun. And wot did he say ? 

Jonah. He said : “ Ye’re on.” 

Jun. Wot did he mean ? 

Jonah {confused'). Why—er—er—he meant that it vvus— 
wus—O. K., I reckon. Lestwise, he give me the pitchers and 
this pail and brush and told me ter go ahead and stick ’em up. 
And by gosh, I have. Thar’s a trail o’ pitchers all the way 
frum Pine Valley to here; and I jest got one left. {Looks 
about.) Let’s see. I reckon I’ll jest stick that up here on the 
well-curb. 

Jun. Oh, lordy, no, Jonah; ye mustn’t do that. 

Jonah. Why not ? - . 

Jun. Why, ye know how sot old Josiah is agin shows and 
play-actors. And he’s been worse than ever since Nellie wanted 
to be one, and stole the heirloom, and- 

Jonah. Now ye jest hold on thar, June. I’ll be danged ef 
I think Nell ever tuk that air necklace. 

Jun. Well, who did then? Josiah himself says she did. 

Jonah. Oh, shucks ! That don’t signify more’n a hill o’ 
beans. Josiah says I’m a blockhead, but that don’t make it 
so. No more does his sayin’ that Nell tuk that air necklace. 

Jun. Well, she went away, anyway, and nobody has heard 
er seen hide nur hair o’ her sense. And old Josiah is more sot 
agin play-actors than ever. 

Jonah. That don’t matter. Why, by gosh, I pasted one 
o’ them air pitchers on Parson Brown’s horse-block, and an- 
uther on the side o’ the meetin’-house. 

Jun. {shocked). Land sakes, Jonah, why thet’s—thet’s— 
sac-re-lig-us. 

Jonah. Wal, I hain’t goin’ no further; so thar. 

{He proceeds to paste the poster on the well-curb.) 

^ Eiiter Amanda, from house. 

Amanda. Air ye nearly through, Junior ? 



26 


RED ACRE FARM 


Jun. Almost, Mrs. Armstrong. 

Amanda {noticing Jonah). Fur the land sakes, Jonah; wot 
is that? v 

Jonah. Why—why— it’s—it’s - (Stops.') 

Enter Jos., l. u. e. 

Amanda. It’s a show pitcher, that’s wot it is. 

Jos. A wot ? ( Comes down through gate a?id examines the 

poster.) Ye contemptible varmit! Wot d’ye mean by postin’ 
that air vile picture on my property ? ( Catches Jonah by the 

neck.) Answer me afore I throw ye down the well. 

Jun. Oh, don’t do it, Josiah, it—it might spile the water. 

Jos. (shaking Jonah). Answer me, d’ye hear ? 

Jonah. Wal, I only wanted ter put some money in yer 
pocket, that’s all. 

Jos. (puzzled). Put some money inter my pocket ? Wot 
d’ye mean ? 

Jonah. Jest wot I said. Ye see when thet air feller give 
me the pitchers and told me ter stick ’em up, he asked me ef I 
knew of a good place whar his troop—wotever that means— 
but anyway, it’s folks wot wanter eat and sleep. Wal, I 
thought o’ you right away, and I tried ter tell him. But he 
wus thick, like all o’ them air city chaps. So I says: “ Wal, 
you jest tell thet air troop ter foller the pitchers and they’ll 
fetch up at the right place.” And then I began, and I kept on 
stickin’ ’em up ’til I got here. 

Amanda. Don’t scold him, Josiah. I ’low he thought he 
wus doin’ us a good turn. And I reckon he wus. We need 
all we kin git, and these folks will help add to our savin’s. 

Jos. I know it, Mandy, but- 

Amanda. Thar, thar. It’s like a gift frum Providence, 
and we won’t go agin that. 

Jos. (after a pause). No, I s’pose we hadn’t oughter do 
that. But curse ’em all, it goes agin the grain to take a cent 

frum such as they be- (Going.) It certainly does go 

agin the grain. [Exit, in house. 

Jonah. Shell I let it stay thar, Mrs. Armstrong ? 

Amanda. Yes, Jonah, let it stay. 

(Crosses; sits on rustic seat , and wipes her eyes.) 

Jonah. Wal, then, I’ll jest take this air pail down to the 
horse trough and wash it out. 

[Exit, with pail and brush, L. 


















RED ACRE FARM 


27 


Jun. Why, Mrs. Armstrong, ye’re cryin’. ( Goes to her.') 
And it’s all on account o’ thet air fool Jonah and his pitchers. 

Amanda. No, no, don’t blame him, Junior. I wus only 
thinkin’. 

Jun. Yes, I know. Thinkin’ o’ Nellie. 

Amanda (sighing). Ah, poor gal, I wonder whar she is to¬ 
day ? Oh, I wonder if she is- 

Enter Mrs. S., r. u. e. 

Mrs. S. Howdy, Mandy? It’s a fine day, isn’t it? Lordy 
me, but that hot spell we did have wus suthin’ awful. I nearly 
roasted alive. And with all them air cherries to do up, too. 
I got nearly forty cans o’ oxhearts frum them two trees down 
back o’ the barn. But did ye hear about Martha Wolley goin’ 
with that air chap that’s a-stayin’ at her dad’s fur the summer ? 
Folks do say that she’s a-carryin’ on something scand’lous. 
I’m glad she hain’t no gal o’ mine. And old Mrs. Penny, 
down at the Corners, has had a stroke. She’s been laid up fur 
two weeks now. How’s Josiah? I saw ’Lige Randall yester¬ 
day. Lordy me; he’s gittin’ grouter than ever sense Dick 
went to the bad. 

Amanda. Went to the bad ? 

Mrs. S. Wal, he went to New York fur to be a play-actor, 
and that’s about the same thing, I reckon. Have ye ever 
heard o’ Nell, sense she- 

(Amanda cries.) 

Jun. (coming down , speaki?ig angrily). Land o’ Goshen, 
Mrs. Strutt. Hain’t ye got no feelin’s? Now ye’ve made her 
cry. Can’t ye talk about something cheerful ? 

Mrs. S. Why, of course. So I will. Come on, Mandy. 
(Puts arm about Amanda’s waistband they rise and walk 
toward house.) Come on in the kitchen, and I’ll tell ye all 
about the Widder Hunter’s funeral. Law me, but it wus a 
grand affair. They had a real huse, and four carriages, and- 

(They both exeunt in house.) 

Jun. (angrily). Oh, but I’d jest like to slap this wet towel 
right across her mouth. Then mebbe she’d know enough to 
shut up fur a while. 

( Twilight. Stage gradually grows dark during the following .) 





28 RED acre farm 

Enter Laura, l. u. e. Looks cautiously about. Discovers 
JUN. 

Laura. Aren’t you finished with the wash yet, Junior? 
Jun. Oh, yes, I’m through. Is that why ye turned up? 
I notice you allers do show yerself arter all the work’s done. 

Laura. Don’t get saucy, girl. If you have finished, go in 
the house and set the table for supper. 

Jun. I won’t. Who air you thet has the right to boss me 
around ? I jest won’t do anything you tell me to. 

Laura ( crossing and sitting on rustic seat). Oh, very 
well. Stay here, then. 

Jun. I won’t do that, nuther. I won’t do it jest ’cause you 
say so. I’ll go down to the barn. 

Laura ( sarcastic ). No, don’t do it. 

Jun. Yes, I will, I tell ye. 

( She picks iip tub and exits with comic digtiity, l. As soon 
as she is gone , Laura rises, goes quickly up stage , and 
waves her handkerchief off l., theii returns to rustic 
seat.) 

Enter Har., l. u. e. He comes down stage. 

Har. Laura ! Here at last. 

(Seats himself beside her on rustic seat.) 

Laura. Have you made all the arrangements ? 

Har. Everything is planned, my dear. I will meet you 
here as soon as it is dark enough for us to escape detection. 
We will go down to Pine Valley and take the train for New 
York. 

Laura. Oh, Harry. And once there, we will be married ? 
Har. Of course. And we will take our fill of pleasure. 
We will see all there is to see in the greatest city in the world. 
Laura. And—and—then we will return ? 

Har. If you really wish it. 

Laura. No, no. I want to stay away forever. I never 
want to see this place again. (Rises.) I have always loathed 

it, and— and—since - 

Har. (rising) . Yes ? 

Laura. I mean, for the last few months, it—it—has been a 
place of torment to me. A veritable hell. 

Har. Then we will not come back. 








RED ACRE FARM 


29 


Laura. No, no. Let us leave it forever. (. Draws wallet 
from her pocket and hands it to Har.) Take this. I want to 
buy some good clothes when once we get to New York. Some¬ 
thing that will make you see how well I can look. Something 
that will make you proud of me. 

Har. Why, where did you get all of this money? 

Laura. I — 1 — (turning away) I saved it. ( Pause. ) You 
had better go now. Some one may be coming. But, remem¬ 
ber, I will be ready as soon as it is dark. I cannot leave this 
place too quickly. \_Exit hurriedly in house. 

Har. (, looking at purse, whistling , counting money). One 
hundred dollars. And she saved it? (Laughs.) Why, she 
never did five dollars’ worth of work in her whole life. And 
I am mighty sure that old Josiah Armstrong never gave her 
that much. He couldn’t if he would, and he wouldn’t if he 
could. Hm ! I have always had my doubts as to who really 

did steal that necklace. Now I begin to suspect- (Laughs.) 

But no matter. If she is indeed the guilty party, it will be but 
an additional whip for me to use when the proper time comes. 
We will go to New York? Of course we will. She will get 
some good clothes? I guess not. (Puts wallet in his pocket.) 
Not with this money. I can use it myself in a better way than 
to buy finery to put on her back. And then we will get mar¬ 
ried ? Perhaps. If she insists. I suppose I shall have to ac¬ 
cept the inevitable. But once I tire of her (gesture), well, she 
can play the role of a deserted wife. (Laughs). I am glad 
she did not want to come back here. It would have been 
mighty unpleasant for me. But in a big city like New York it 
is an easy matter to lose a person you want to lose—or even get 
rid of one of whom you are tired. Oh, yes, we will have our 
lark, and after that—I will return and swear that I know noth¬ 
ing of her. They will not be able to prove anything against 
me, and they will not dare to insinuate anything against the son 
of Squire Harcourt. Once she is left alone in New York and 
knows that she has been deserted, she will not have courage 
enough to come back here and face the gossips, whose tongues 
are sharper than double-edged swords. No, she will just drop 
out of sight in the great metropolis, like a pebble dropped in 
the ocean, and that will be the end of it. 

(Laughs and exits , l. i e.) 

Enter Jonah, l. 2 e. 





3 o 


RED ACRE FARM 


Jonah. I reckon I’d better git a lantern and hang it up 
here somewhere, so’s that air troop kin see the sign when they 
cum along, er they might miss the place in the dark. 

(Exits in house and returns with a lighted lantern, which 
he hangs near the sign and exits l.) 

Enter Tom, r. u. e. ; he peers about , notices sign , and mo- 
tions off stage . 

Tom. Come on. I’ve found the place at last. This is it. 

Enter Nell, and Dick. Both come doivn stage. Nell, is 
staggering. Tom busy at the well. 

Dick. What is it, Nellie ? 

Nell. I—I—oh, Dick, I cannot stay here. 

Tom (crossing to them'). Hum ! This place looks familiar 
to me. 

Dick. Familiar to you ? 

Tom. Yes. I once — but that is another story. Shall I 
ring for the hotel clerk ? 

Dick. We will attend to that. Go back and see to getting 
our grips from the station to the hall. We will be down as 
soon as we get something to eat. 

Tom. All right. But don’t be too long about it. I pre¬ 
dict that we are going to have a big house to-night. 

\_Exit, R. u. E. 

Nell. Let us go also, Dick. I—I — dare not stay. 

Dick. No, no. Who knows but that their hearts may 
have softened ere this. Surely your father must have recon¬ 
sidered his harsh determination. Let us go in. 

Nell. No, no. At least, not yet. Let me sit here a while. 
Perhaps I shall gain courage to brave their possible anger. 

Dick (leading her to rustic seat and seati?ig her on it). 
Very well. I will look about the place and see if I can find 
any one who will tell me just how things stand and what kind 
of a reception we are likely to receive. [Exit, r. u. e. 

Nell. Home again. And after only three months. Why, 
it seems as many years at least since I passed out of yonder 
door. Passed out dishonored, disgraced. With my father’s 
curse upon my head. Oh, God ! And all for what ? What had 
I done to deserve it ? Nothing. And will he receive me now ? 
Ah, I fear not. I come back to him as the wife of a man he 





RED ACRE FARM 3I 

always detested, and am, in very truth, that most depraved of 
creatures—at least to his bigoted imagination—an actress. 

Enter Har., l. 

Har. ( coming toward her). Laura, are you ready at last? 

Nell, (rising). Sir ! 

Har. What! (Strikes a match and peers into her face.) 
Why, if it is not Nellie. So the prodigal has returned at last, 
eh ? And what are you doing out here ? Waiting for them 
to kill the fatted calf? 

Nell, (coldly). I have not even seen my parents as yet. 

Har. Then let me be your herald. 

Nell. No, no. 

Har. And advocate, as well. I warn you, you will need 
one. Josiah Armstrong has not forgotten the theft of that 
precious heirloom. 

Nell. But I did not take it. God knows I did not. 

Har. Perhaps He does. But your father does not, and he 
has a very unpleasant way of sticking to his opinions, once he 
has decided on them. Come, let me go in and see him. I 
will promise to set matters right and bring both him and your 
mother out here to sue for your forgiveness for the wrong they 
may have done you. 

Nell. Do you really think you can do it ? ( Speaks eagerly.) 

Har. I am sure of it. 

Nell. I shall be in your debt forever. 

Har. Oh, of course I should expect my reward. 

Nell. And what is that, pray ? 

Har. Well, say a kiss to start with, and the promise that 
you will treat me a little better in the future than you have 
been wont to do in the past. 

Nell, (sternly). Harry Harcourt, I barely tolerated you 
in the past. After the proposal which you now make, I can 
only hate you in the future. I yearn to see my parents and be 
forgiven. My very heart and soul cries out for their embrace; 
but rather than promise to treat you with civility—rather than 
have your polluted lips touch so much as the tips of my fingers 
—[’ll go on my way, cursed by my parents—forever. Go. 
Your place is far more agreeable to me than your company. 

Har. Bravo ! It only needed a speech like that to prove to 
me that you have at last attained your heart’s desire—a place 
behind the footlights. Tell me, is that speech part of some 
scene in one of the plays you are acting in ? 


RED ACRE FARM 


3 2 

Nell. Will you leave me ? 

Har. Why, do. I could not think of quitting your charm¬ 
ing company so soon. I want to hear some more of your 
theatricals. 

Nell. Then I will go. [ Exit, r. u. e. 

Har. (laughing). Well, well. To think of her returning. 
And at such a time. How charming she looked in her anger. 
Oh, if she would only consent to be my wife, I’d marry her in 
earnest, and use every penny I possess to make her famous in 
her chosen profession. By heavens ! Since she is here once 
more I will try. But there is Laura, and we had planned to 
elope to-night. (Laughs.) Oh, well, I can take that silly girl 
to New York, leave her, and return in time to get some trace 
of Nell. Yes, she shall be mine. She shall be mine. 

[Exit, L. 

Enter Jun. and Jonah, l. u. e. 

Jun. But I really must go now, Jonah. Lordy me, Mrs. 
Strutt will have a conniption fit if I don’t turn up purty quick. 
I ’low it is nigh supper time. And then thar’s the chickens to 
feed. 

Jonah. Oh, darn the chickens. Sit down; I got suthin’ 
ter say to ye. 

Jun. (sitting on rustic seat). Well, hurry up. (Jonah 
gets out a large bandanna handkerchief, lays it carefully o?i 
the ground, then drops azvkwardly on one knee before her.) 
For the land sakes, Jonah, wot air ye going to do? 

Jonah. Don’t ye say a word ’til I git through. D’ye hear? 
Ef ye do, ye’ll put me all out. (Takes a small book from his 
pocket, glances at it, then stretches out his arm toward her, 
and begins.) Mehitabel Junior Strutt. Light o’ my life; 
fairest flower wot blooms in the exquisite garden o’ rare exotics, 
that—that - (Glances hurriedly at book.) 

Jun. Law me, Jonah, I don’t understand- 

Jonah. Shut up, 1 tell ye. (Business as before.) I cum 
ter ye on my bended knee, knowin’ my unworthiness to so 
much as kiss the hem o’ yer garment- 

(Catches hold of her dress.) 

Jun. (springing to her feet). Go ’way, Jonah Jones. Wot- 
ever d’ye want ter kiss the hem o’ my dress fur? Have ye 
taken leave o’ yer senses? Lordy, but I’m ashamed o’ ye. 







RED ACRE FARM 


33 


(She tries to get away, but he has hold of her dress.) 

Jonah. Come back and sit down. I — I - Let’s see. 

('Consults book.) Oh, hang it all, now I’ve lost the place. 
Darn the old book, anyway. {Rises, throws the book down, 
and speaks rapidly.) Junior, I love ye. Love ye better than 
pun’kin pie; and that’s sayin’ a heap. Will ye marry me ? 
(Sighs.) Thar, now I’ve got it off my chest. 

Jun. Wal, Jonah Jones. 

Jonah. Come on, answer me, afore I bust. D’ye love me ? 
Jun. Sure I do. 

Jonah. And will ye marry me? 

Jun. Of course I will. 

Jonah. Junior! 

Jun. Jonah! 

(They embrace with a pronoimced kiss.) 

Enter Col., r. u. e. 

Col. Eh ! What ! Eh ! What ! Hem ! ( Comes quickly 
down stage . Jun. and Jonah quickly step apart.) Mehitabel 
Junior Strutt ! 

Jun. (embarrassed). Y-e-e-s, s-i-i-r. 

Col. Jonah Jones ! 

Jonah (sa?ne business ). Y-e-e-s, s-i-i-r ! 

Col. Answer me, did I see ye a-carryin' on with thet air 
gal? 

Jonah (much frightened and co?jfused). Wal — I—I— wus 
—wus —only — only - 

Col. Ye wus a-huggin’ her and a-kissin’ her. Out here. 
All alone. Jonah Jones ! (Speaks very loudly. Jonah jumps 
in fright.) I’ll cane ye fur this, within an inch o’ yer life. 
Come here, ye varmit. 

(He starts after Jonah. Business of running about stage. 
At last Jonah runs off at l. 2 e. In trying to follow 
him, Col. stwnbles against the well-curb, and disappears, 
with a cry for help.) 

Jonah (peering cautiously in 071 the stage). Is he gone ? 
Jun. (down l.). Yep. 

Jonah (near well). Whar? 

Jun. I dunno. Didn’t he foller you ? 

Jonah. Nop. 




34 


RED ACRE FARM 


Col. ( calling faintly ). Help ! Help ! 

Jonah ( after looking about). Wal, by gosh, June, ef the 
old fool hasn’t fell down the well. 

Jun. Land sakes ! I’ll go and call Josiah. 

(Starts for house , but stops when Jonah speaks.) 

Jonah. Not yit. Wait ’til I have a peek at him. ( Gets 
lantern and peers down the well. Jun. joins him.) Air ye 
down thar, Colonel ? 

Col. Crawling Codwollopers, of course I am. Run in the 
house, and tell Josiah ter cum and bring a rope; and pull me 
out afore I friz ter death. 

Jonah. I say, Colonel, I love Junior. 

Col. I don’t care a - 

Jun. ( interrupting ). What! 

Col. Git me out o’ this, I tell ye. 

Jonah. And, Colonel, Junior loves me. 

Col. Ef ye don’t hurry up and git Josiah, I’ll whale the 
livin’ lights out o’ ye when I git up thar. 

Jonah. And we wanter git married. 

Col. I don’t care wot ye want. I wanter git out o’ here. 

Jonah. Will ye give yer consent ? 

Col. Consarn ye, no ! 

Jonah. Then cum on, Junior. We’ll let the pestiferous old 
crank drown, like a rat. 

(Starts to move away with the lantern.) 

Col. Oh, oh, help ! help ! Jonah ! Jonah Jones. Come 
back. Come back. I beg of ye. 

(Jonah returns and again peers down the well.) 

Jonah. Wal, wotcher got ter say, Colonel ? 

Col. Crawling Codwollopers! When I wus in Tim- 
bucktoo- 

Jonah. We don’t wanter hear nuthin’ about Timbucktoo 
jest now. Hurry up and tell us ef ye consent to our marriage. 
Fur ef ye don’t, we’ll run away and git married anyway, and 
rnebbe you won’t be found fur a week. (Col. groans loudly.) 
Fur the last time, Colonel; wot air ye goin’ ter say? 

Col. ( after a pause). All right, darn ye. I’ll agree. 
Now git a rope, and be dang quick about it. Crawling Cod¬ 
wollopers, but it’s cold down here. I’m frizzing, and the dang 
frogs and snails is all over me. Ouch ! 










RED ACRE FARM 


35 


Jonah ( tearing off a piece of the poster). Here’s a bit o’ 
paper, Colonel. I’m a-goin’ ter let it down by the well-rope. 
Ye jest put down thar that ye agree to our marriage. Thar’s 
nuthin’ like being sure o’ things. 

(Lets the lantern and bit of paper down the well.) 

Jun. (aside to Jonah). Lordy, Jonah, hain’t ye afraid he’ll 
drown ? 

Jonah. Naw. Thar hain’t over five foot o’ water in the 
well. But I want ye, June. I want ye bad ; and he’s gotter 
give his consent, darn him, and give it so’s thar won’t be no 
backin’ out. 

Col. I won’t sign this. 

Jonah. Ye won’t, hey? Ef ye don’t, I’ll drop the bucket 
on yer head. Here she goes. One, two- 

Col. (in great fear). Oh, help, help. Murder! Hold 
on thar. Ouch! Junior, Junior, fur the love o’ heaven, stop 
him. I’ll sign. I’ll sign. (Pause.) Thar. See ef that 
suits ye. 

(Jonah pulls lantern and paper up , and looks at it.) 

Jonah. You read it, June. 

Jun. (reading). “This is to certify that I agree to the 
marriage of my adopted daughter, Mehitabel Junior Strutt, to 
Jonah Jones. Signed, Colonel Barnaby Strutt.” 

Jonah. Good. That’s O. K. You keep it, June, while I 
go and git a rope. [Exit behind house. 

Col. (calling). Wal, wal, hain’t ye satisfied yit? 

Jun. Yes, yes, he’s a-comin’. 

Enter Jonah with a rope which he lets down the well, and he 
arid Jun. pull the Col. to the top. Pause. 

Jonah. Thankee, Colonel, fur yer consent to our marriage. 

Col. Oh, go to the devil, both o’ ye. 

Enter Mrs. S .,from house. 

Mrs. S. Land sakes, Junior, air ye really here at last? 

I’ve been waitin’ fur ye nigh onter- (Suddenly discovers 

Col., and goes to him.) Wal, Barnaby Strutt, whar hev ye 
been ? 

Col. (stammering). Why—why—why- 

Jun. Ef ye please; he fell down the well, and me and Jonah 

pulled him out. 





RED ACRE FARM 


3 6 

Jonah. And he vvus so tickled over it, thet he’s agreed ter 
let us git married. 

Mrs. S. What! Barnaby Strutt, have ye suddenly taken 
leave o’ yer seven senses ? 

Col. ( expostulating ). Now, Mehitabel- 

Mrs. S. But ye don’t mean that, do ye? 

Col. (hesitating). Wal—er—of course ef- 

Jonah. Yep, he does. He even signed a paper, sayin’ he 
wus willin’. 

Mrs. S. Did ye do that, Barnaby Strutt ? 

Col. Now, Mehitabel- 

Mrs. S. Answer me ! 

Col. Crawling Codwollopers, woman. I’ll not be cate¬ 
chised by no wife o’ mine. I’ll do jest as I like. Yep, I did 
sign it, and I only hope they’ll worry each other to death, dang 
me ef I don’t. I’m goin’ hum. [ Exit , r. u. e. 

Mrs. S. Wal, ef thet man don’t beat all creation. Junior, 
ye cum hum with me right away. 

Jonah. Hold on thar, Junior. Kiss yer husband ter be 
afore ye go. 

Mrs. S. What! 

Jun. Corse I will. ( They have a fervent embrace.') 

Mrs. S. {shocked). Law me, but I’m scandalized. Per¬ 
fectly scandalized. 

{Exits hurriedly , r. u. e. , followed more leisurely by Jun., 
with ma?iy a backward glance at Jonah.) 

Jonah {hanging lantern in its place , going to door of house, 
pausing and laughing). Old Josiah do say thet I’m a block¬ 
head, but I reckon I do know a thing er two. 

[Exit in house , laughing. 

Enter Dick and Nell., r. u. e. 

Dick. Yes, my dear, I insist. Who knows but that your 
fears are all phantoms ? At least we will try. They can no 
more than refuse to see us; and that is no worse than they have 
already done. But somehow, I have hopes- 

Nell, {shaking her head sadly). I have none. Some ill 
omen seemed from the very first to warn me against returning, 
Dick ; and now, since Mr. Harcourt- 

Dick {interrupting). Don’t mention him. I hope, for his 
own good fortune, that he does not cross my path while we are 
here. Come. 









RED ACRE FARM 


37 


Nell. No, no, I—I—am afraid. Let me look about and 
call fond remembrance to my aid. The old well, where I so 
often drank the pure, cool water. The bench? Ah, it seems 
but yesterday since I sat on that rustic seat and dreamed day¬ 
dreams of the future. Dear old house, so full of happy memo¬ 
ries of my childhood. Oh, how I wish I might throw my arms 
about you, dear old home, and gather you to my heart in a lov¬ 
ing embrace. ( Cries .) Leave me for a few moments, Dick. 
I want to be alone—all alone with the past. 

(Dick exits , l. Nell, goes slowly about the stage, examin¬ 
ing the various things.') 

Enter Laura from house. She is dressedfor traveling and 
carries a grip. She is slowly crossing stage without no¬ 
ticing Nell., who is up near well. Nell, turns sud¬ 
denly, discovers her, and coming to her side at c., catches 
her ar?n. 

Nell. Laura! 

Laura. Eh ? 

Nell. Don’t you know me? 

Laura. You ? You back again, and at this of all moments ? 
Nell. Yes,- it is I, Laura. But why—at this moment? 
What has happened ? What do you mean ? Where are you 
going? 

Laura. That is none of your business. Let me go. 

Nell. No, no. Something tells me that all is not right. I 
will not let you go unless you tell me where you are going. 

Laura ( struggling unsuccessfully to get away). If you do 
not let me go at once, I will call my father, and have you put 
off the farm. 

Nell. Call him, then. {Pause.) Why don’t you call 
him ? Shall I do it for you ? 

Laura {speaking fearfully). No,-no. Don’t. 

Nell. Ah, then it is true. You fear him as much as I do. 
{Puts an arm about her.) 'fell me, Laura, what is the matter? 
Has he been unkind to you ? 

Laura {after a pause). No, no. Let me go. 

Nell. Then why are you stealing off in this manner, like a 
thief in the night ? You have your clothing with you too. 
Are you leaving home ? 

Laura {pausing). Yes. 

Nell. Alone ? 


38 


RED ACRE FARM 


Laura ( pausing ). Oh, let me go. You are no longer one 
of us. You have no right to question me. 

Nell. (< quietly ). I was driven from home, Laura. Driven 
out into the world to battle with all its sin and wickedness— 
alone. I have learned much in the last few months. And— I 
am still your—sister. I begin to see light. ( Turns her about , 
lays a hand on either shoulder , and looks into her face. ) Tell 
me, tell me truthfully, were you not going away with Harry 
Harcourt ? 

Laura (starling). How did you know? 

Nell. I did not know. I only guessed. Am I not right ? 

Laura (pausing; she bows her head). Yes. 

Nell. Don’t do it, dear. You will regret it. 

Laura. What do you know of it? You tried to win him 
and failed. And now- 

Nell. You mistake, Laura. I never loved him. I even 
sent him away from me. 

Laura. And now he loves me, and-- 

Nell. If he loves you as you say, why does he not court 
you openly, as any honorable man would ? 

Laura (hesitating). I — I - (Pause.) 

Nell. You do not know ? It is because he is wicked, 
Laura. He does not love you. You are but the toy of the 
moment to him. He would take you to New York, and there, 
after he had tired of you, he would cast you adrift. (Enter 
Har., l.) No, no, dear. Don’t go with him. Stay here, 
here under the care and protection of your parents, until some 
worthy man comes to you and offers you his heart, openly and 
honorably. 

Har. Eh? 

Laura. Oh, Harry ! 

Har. (to Nell.). What, you back again ? 

Nell. Yes, I thank God. Back in time to save my sister. 

Har. Nonsense. Come, Laura. 

Nell. No, she shall not go with you. She stays here. 

Enter Dick, l. 

Har. (coming toward her threateningly). Let her go, I 
say, or I’ll- 

Dick (springing between them and hurling Har. l.). What 
will you do ? 

Har. Once for all, Laura, will you come with me, or stay 
here at the behest of that- 








RED ACRE FARM 


39 


Dick. Take care. 

Har. Oh, pardon me. I forgot she is your- 

Dick. Wife? Yes. 

Har. Laura ? 

Nell. Tell him, dear. Make your decision. 

Laura ( after a pause). I—I—will stay here. 

Nell. Bravely spoken. 

Har. {angrily). Will you? Then stay. But by heaven, 
they shall not. ( Crosses quickly to door of house and calls 
loudly.) Mr. Armstrong. Mr. Armstrong. 

Enter Jos. and Amanda, from house. 

Jos. Why, it is Harry Harcourt. And who air them folks? 

Har. One is your daughter, Laura. The other two are 
only traveling actors. You may have heard of them before. 
Dick Randall and Nell Armstrong. 

Amanda. Nellie, my- 

Jos. ( stopping her as she would go toward Nell.). What! 
She here? Stand back, Mandy. Don’t ye go near her. ( To 
Nell, and Dick.) What air you two doin’ here ? 

Har. They came to take your only daughter from you. 
And they almost succeeded. See, she has her clothes packed. 

Jos. What? (Sternly.) Laura? 

Nell. No, no. 

Dick. ’Tis a lie. 

Har. ’Tis not a lie. Ask her if she was not going with 
them ? 

Jos. Speak up, my gal. 

Laura ( pausing , while Har. looks at her keenly. She 
catches his eye and slowly answers). Yes ! 

Nell, (shocked). What, Laura? Oh, my God ! 

Jos. Mandy, take our daughter in the house with ye. (As 
she hesitates.) D’ye hear me? 

Nell, (appealingly). Mother ! 

Jos. ( waving her back). Stand back thar, you. (To 
Amanda.) Mandy. (Amanda slowly exits in house with 
Laura.) And now you go. I sent you from this house once. 

Nell, (brokenly). Father, forgive- 

Jos. No, no, gal. Look at me. Forced ter stoop to takin’ 
in boarders to try and make a livin’ fur myself and my poor 
old wife. And all on your account. On your account, gal. 
Ef ye hadn’t stole thet necklace, all this trouble wouldn't 
a-cum upon me. 





4 o 


RED ACRE FARM 


Nell. But, father, I didn’t- 

Jos. ( interrupting , stertily). Go ! 

Dick ( facing Jos.). Mr. Armstrong, I’d give this right 
hand to have the years roll backward and make you a young 
man, just for a few minutes. 

Jos. Ye fool! {To Har.) Harry, show them folks the 
way to the road. We need the money, but we hain’t got no 
accommodations fur actors and thieves. 

Dick {as Har. steps fonuard). Don’t. Don’t you dare 
lay a finger on me or mine. You are my equal in youth and 
strength. And after the injustice we have had to suffer this 
night—there is murder in my heart. 

Nell, {quickly laying an arm about his neck , and a hand on 
his arm). No, no, Dick. Don’t talk like that. Come— we— 
we—will go. 

(They slowly retire up stage as curtain falls.) 



ACT III 


SCENE. —Same as Act I. Amanda sits knitting by the fire. 
A lamp is burning on the table. 

Enter Jos. at rise , d. f. He shakes snow from his hat and 
clothing. 

Amanda. It is a wild night out, Josiah. 

Jos. ’Deed it is, Mandy. Thank the good Lord thet we 
are snug and warm here. 

Amanda. And may He take care of all the poor souls that 
is out in the bitter storm, with no place ter go. 

Jos. (removing his outer garments'). Amen ter that, Mandy. 
Amen ter that. (Sits by the fire warming his hands.) 

Amanda. Have ye saved enough ter pay the interest on the 
mortgage? Ye know it cums due ter-morrer ? 

Jos. I know it. Lord, how slow the days do drag some¬ 
times, but how fast it do travel when it’s interest yer thinkin’ 
of. Wal, no, Mandy, I hain’t got quite enough. But thar’s 
old Dolly, the sorrel mare. I saw Ben Davis to day, and he 
’lowed he’d give me twenty dollars fur her. 

Amanda. Oh, ye won’t go fur ter sell dear, old Dolly; 
will ye? 

Jos. I gotter do it, Mandy. Thet air twenty will jest 
about fix the interest up. 

Amanda. But jest think how long she’s been with us. 
Why, ye bought her when she warn’t more’n six months old. 
It wus jest arter—arter Laura wus born. 

Jos. (sighing). Hum, hum ! Yes, I remember. (Amanda 
cries. Jos. notices, and leaning forward puts an arm about 
her.) Don’t cry, Mandy, it’ll all cum right in the end. Don’t 
the Bible say thet the Lord will provide ? 

Amanda. I wusn’t a-thinkin’ o’ Dolly. 

Jos. Ye wus a-thinkin’ o’ Laura, then? (Amanda nods.) 
Poor gal, I wonder whar she is to-night. God knows, 1 tried 
hard enough ter find her. And spent a pretty penny, too. 
We caught ’em the fust time they tried to take her frum us. 
But it warn’t a month later afore she wus gone. Gone ! And 

41 


4* 


RED ACRE FARM 


I’m sure they must have coaxed her away. Harry Harcourt 
.said so, and he wus in New York about the same time. He 
told me when he cum back thet he tried ter git her to return 
with him, but it wasn’t no use. ( Pause .) May ill-luck foller 
Dick Randall and Nell Armstrong all their lives fur the ruin 
they have brought upon us. 

Amanda. Don’t curse ’em, Josiah. Sometimes I see Nellie’s 
sweet face in my dreams, and seem to hear her voice, low and 
pleading. And when I wake up, I lay and wonder. Wonder 
ef she really did take that heirloom, or—or—wus it all a terri¬ 
ble mistake? 

Jos. Ef she didn’t take it, who did? Answer me that, 
and I’ll think we made a mistake. 

Amanda. I don’t know, Josiah. I can’t tell ye, only- 

Oh, I only wish I knew fur sure. Think what an awful crime 
we’ve committed, if—if—we drove her away without just 
cause. 


(Jos. rises and nervously paces the floor.') 

Jos. Don’t talk thet way, Mandy. Don’t talk thet way. 

Amanda. But she had allers been a truthful gal, and she 
allers gave us all she made. {Pause.) It’s never been the 
same here at hum since—since she left. 

Jos. I—I know it. But she’s gone, and that settles it. 
We haven’t chick nur child now. We’re all alone in our old 
age. {Sighs.) Ah, the Lord acts mighty strange with His 
children, sometimes. 

Amanda. But s’pose all this trouble and all this lonesome¬ 
ness is only our punishment fur- 

Jos. Mandy, stop ! Don’t let us talk about it any more. 

Amanda {boiving her head). All right, Josiah. (Jos. goes 
up to clock and winds it, then goes silently to window, and 
stands looking out with his hands clasped behind him. Sound 
of sleigh-bells heard without. Amanda rises.) Who’s thet? 

Jos. (peering from window). It looks like Jonah and J unior. 
He tuk the sleigh just arter supper, and ’lowed thet he had ter 
go down to the village. I ’spose he’s met Junior and is a-seein’ 
her hum. 

Enter Jonah and Jun., d. f. 

Jun. Good-evening, Mrs. Armstrong. Howdy, Josiah. I 








RED ACRE FARM 43 

thought, bein’s it wus such a bad night, thet I’d run over and 
spend the evening, and cheer ye up a bit. 

Amanda. That’s kind o’ ye, Junior. 

Jonah. And me too. 

Jun. ( aside to Jonah). Hurry up and git him out o’ h^re. 

Jonah. Er—I say, Josiah. YVould ye mind jest takin’ the 
horse to the barn while 1 warm my fingers? Gosh! but I’m 
nearly frizzed, a-drivin’ all the wayfrum Strutt’s place in the 
teeth o’ this storm. It’s a-snowin’ worse than all possessed ; 
and wind ? Phew ! it’s a-blowin’ worse than forty wildcats. 

Jos. I don’t see why ye didn’t drive right to the barn in 
the fust place, instid o’ stoppin’ here. But I’ll put her in. I 
gotter keep old Dolly fit now until arter I git the money fur her 
frum Ben Davis. 

(Puts on his outer garments and exits d. f„) 

Jonah (aside to Jun.). I’ve done my part. Now ye git 
her out o’ the room. 

Jun. (crossing to Amanda, who is near fireplace). Lordy, 
but it’s colder than Greenland’s icy mountains ter-night, 
hain’t it? 

Amanda. I reckon it is bitter. 

Jun. Ye don’t happen to have a spare cup o’ tea, now 
do ye? 

Amanda. Why, yes, I reckon the teapot is still on the 
stove in the kitchen. I’ll go and see. Mebbe ef I put a pinch 
more o’ tea in, I kin make ye a cup. 

Jun. All right; it’s very kind o’ ye, I’m sure. (Amanda 
going.) Ye needn’t bring it in here. Jest you git it ready, 
and pour it out, and let it stay right thar. I’ll be out in a min¬ 
ute ter keep ye company. (Amanda exits , r.) Now, Jonah, 
you jest git a move on ye and help me tidy up this air room. 
(Looks off l.) The parlor’s all right. That room allers is. 1 
don’t reckon anybody ever goes in thar since the gals left. But 
it’s cold. Here, ye take some wood and start a fire in the grate. 
(Jonah gets wood from near fireplace and starts to go.) But 
mind that ye don’t make one teeny, tiny bit o’ noise or I— 
I’ll—I won’t kiss ye fur a week. Thar ! 

Jonah. Lordy, June, I’ll be as quiet as a little mouse. 

(Drops wood with a loud noise.) 

Jun. Thar! Thar! Thar! Oh, ye clumsy ij it. (Tip¬ 
toes to door , R., and listens.) I reckon she didn’t hear it. 


44 


RED ACRE FARM 


And it’s a wonder, too; fur ef that wusn’t enough ter wake the 
dead. Now, Jonah, please—do—try—and—be—quiet. 

Jonah. All right, June. I will, so help me jiminy crickets. 

\_Exit l., with wood. 

Jun. ( starting tidying room). It’s plain ter be seen that 
things has gone wrong in this house. I kin remember the time 
when Mrs. Armstrong would a-had a conniption fit ef her place 
wus as upsot as this room is. But law me, since the gals left 
she don’t seem to care fur nuthin’. Nur Josiah nuther. Hum, 
hum. I do hope my gals, ef I have any, won’t run off like 
that. (. Pause .) I won’t have no gals. No, sir. I’ll have 
boys. Ye kin make ’em work on the farm, and earn some 
money fur ye. Yep, boys is better’n gals, so I’ll jest have 
boys. (Enter Jonah, l.) Wal, is the fire started? 

Jonah. Yep. 

Jun. And I’ve got this room lookin’ kinder tidy like. It’s 
a shame the way things hez gone ter rack and ruin around here 
since them gals left. I’ve made up my mind thet I won’t have 
no gals when we’re married. 

Jonah (staring at her then slowly crossing to her). Ye— 
won’t—have—no—gals? Huh! D’ye s’pose I want a lot 
o' blockhead boys a-hangin’ around the house? No, siree. 
It’s gals we’ll have, and don’t ye furgit it. 

Jun. ( spiritedly ). No we won’t, nuther. 

Jonah. Now see here, June. Jest look at this thing rea¬ 
sonable. Look wot it costs ter keep a boy. He’s allers a-run- 
nin’ out his boots and gittin’ in trouble and tearin’ his britches. 
And think how much more a boy eats than a gal. I know. 
Wusn’t I a boy once? Now a gal hain’t like that. They stay 
in the house and wash the dishes and mend the clothes, and 
don’t go a-gallivantin’ all over the county a-gittin’ inter all the 
trouble they kin find. And they don’t eat hardly anything. 
And jest see how much more it costs ter keep a boy in clothes. 
Why ye can’t git a good suit fur a boy, arter he’s got any size 
ter him, fur less than three dollars. But a gal ! Gosh ! ye kin 
dress her in ginghams and calikers that don’t cost hardly any¬ 
thing down at Willis’s store. 

Jun. Yes, and when they grow up they’ll run away and git 
married, and like as not never cum ter see ef their old father 
and mother air alive er dead. No, I don’t care nuthin’ about 
it. I jest won’t have any gals. 

Jonah. And I say we will. 

Jun. We won’t. 


RED ACRE FARM 


45 


Jonah. We will! 

Jun. Jonah Jones, ef ye don't agree ter have boys, we won’t 
have any. 

Jonah. Thet’s jest wot I say about gals. 

Jun. Yer jest too hateful fur anything, so thar ! 

Jonah. And yer an old cat, so thar ! 

Jun. I’d jest like ter scratch yer eyes out, I would. 

Jonah. Wal, ye jest try it, and I’ll give ye the biggest wal¬ 
lopin’ ye ever had in yer life. 

Jun. Ye will, will ye? 

Jonah. Yes I will, will I. (Jun. grabs him by the hair and 
shakes him viciously. He yells.) Ouch ! Lemmego ! 


Enter Amanda, r. Jos., d. f. 


Amanda. Lord bless me, wotever is the matter? 

Jonah ( {speaking together Why, June says she won’t 
Jun. ) excitedly'). Why, Jonah says he won’t 

Jos. ( interrupting ). Hold on thar. One at a time. 



Wal, he ■ 
Wal, she 


Jos. ( catching Jun. by the arm and turning her about). 
Now see here, Junior, wot’s the matter? 

Jun. Why, he said we won’t have no boys when we git 
married, and- 

Jonah. Yep, and she said we won’t have no gals. 

Amanda. Wal, ye air a pair o’ silly children yerselves. 

Jos. {crossing to sofa). I reckon ye’d better quit yer 
fightin’ ’til arter yer married, and leave the rest ter Providence. 
{Looks about.) Whar’s my slippers? 

Amanda. Why, they wus right thar by the sofy. 

Jos. Wal, they hain’t thar now. 

Amanda {looking about). Junior, did you er Jonah see any¬ 
thing o’ Josiah’s slippers? 

Jun. {hesitating). Why—er- {Bells heard outside.) 

Jonah (at window). Here they cum ! Here they cum ! 
Jun. (clapping her hands and dancing about). Goody ! 
Yep, I seen them air slippers, and I jest put ’em away when I 
tidied up the room fur ye. Thar’s a surprise party a-cumin’, 
and here they be now. 


(Jonah runs to d. f. ; opens it.) 
Enter Mrs. followed by villagers. 








46 


RED ACRE FARM 


Mrs. S. S’prise, Josiah. And yew too, Mandy. S’prise. 
We ’lowed thet yew two needed cheerin’ up a bit, so we all 
met over ter Holcomb’s and hev cum over ter do it. 

Jonah. And the parlor is all ready. Fire made and every¬ 
thing. 

Mrs. S. Then everybody take yer vittals inter the kitchen, 
and put ’em on the table. Leave yer hats and things out thar 
too, and Junior kin hang ’em up by the stove, so’s they’ll git 
dry by the time ye want ter go hum. Lordy, but it shore is a 
terrible night out. 

[.Exeunt villagers , R., followed by Jun. and Jonah. 

Jos. But whar’s the Colonel ? 

Mrs. S. ( mysteriously ). Sh ! That’s a s’prise, too. On 
everybody. But I’ll tell ye all about it. Barnaby made it all 
up hisself, and told me about it, and I went ter Holcomb’s 
alone; and when the folks all asked whar he wus, I told ’em 
he wus ter hum, sick abed. But he hain’t. No, siree. Arter 
I left, he fixed hisself up as Santy Claus, and he’s a-cumin’ 
here, and git up on the ruff, by way o’ the back porch, and 
cum down the chimbly, and s’prise all the folks. 

Jos. Ummmm. Wal, I reckon it’ll be a tight squeeze fur 
him. 

Mrs. S. Oh, he’ll do it. Barnaby Strutt kin do anything, he 
kin. And nobody’ll guess who he is. Not in the wide world. 
Hush ! Here they cum now, and I ’low it’s nigh time thet 
Barnaby wus here, too. Ye see, I’m ter tell ’em a story, and 
while I’m a-tellin’ it, Barnaby he’ll cum right down the 
chimbly. 

Enter Jonah and Jun., r., followed by the villagers. 

Jun. Now we kin all go in the parlor and have some sing¬ 
ing and play some games. 

Jonah. Yep, kissin’ ring, fur instance. Ummmmm ! 

Jun. Go ’long, you, Jonah. And we kin have a dance, too. 

Mrs. S. Wait a minute. Sit down, everybody. I wanter 
tell ye all a story. {All sit .) Now, I ’low thet most o’ ye 
hev got over the days when ye looked fur old Santy Claus ter 
cum down the chimbly and bring ye goodies and toys. But 
he’s a-cumin’ here to-night. ( Ejaculations .) Yep, he is. I 
reckon he’s on the ruff now, and fust thing ye know he’ll cum 
right down thet air chimbly. 

Jonah. Gosh all hemlock ! {Runs to chimney and peers 
up.) Why, yep, folks, I do see suthin’ thet looks mighty like 


RED ACRE FARM 


47 

a pair o’ legs. (Calls up.') Cum on down, ye old Santy 
Claus. Cum on down. {Legs appear and then stop and be¬ 
gin kicking about.) Why don’t ye cum on ? Gosh, I kinder 
reckon the old feller hez got stuck. Cum on. 

{Pulls frantically at the legs , and gradually gets Col., who 
is comically disguised as Santa Claus , out op the chimney.) 

Mrs. S. T. har he is, folks. And I’ll bet thar hain’t one o’ 
ye as kin guess who old Santy Claus is. 

Col. {in a disguised voice). Crawling Codwollopers, but thet 
wus the tightest place I wus ever in since I wus in Timbucktoo. 

Omnes. Oh, it is Colonel Strutt. {All laugh.) 

Mrs. S. / Thar, I knew it. {Disgustedly pulls off his false 
beard.) I ’lowed as ye’d give the hull thing away. 

Col. Why, how’d I give it away? Wusn’t I fixed up 
good ? 

Mrs. S. Yes, but- 

Col. And didn’t I change my voice? 

Mrs. S. Yes, I reckon ye did change yer voice. But who¬ 
ever says, “Crawling Codwollopers,” in Pine Valley, er who’s 
ever been in Timbucktoo but you? Oh, I’m clar disgusted 
with you, Barnaby Strutt. 

Col. Wal, folks, I guess ye air too smart fur me this time. 

Jun. Can’t we all go inter the parlor, now ? 

Mrs. S. Yep, I s’pose we kin. 

Col. Come on, and I’ll sing ye a song. 

Omnes. Good. All right, etc. 

Col. Yes, I will. The fust time I sung thet air song wus 
when I wus in Timbucktoo. One night I got up in my sleep 
and walked about a hundred miles frum the camp. Fact! 
And I s’pose I might a-been walkin’ in my sleep yit, only I 
wus woke up by hearin’ a growl, and thar ! Crawling Cod¬ 
wollopers, ef I hadn’t jest walked right inter a den o’ roarin’ 
lions and tigers. Why, thar wus as many as five hundred and 
one o’ ’em. And they growled and snarled at me, and jest as 
I cum out o’ my sleep, about a hundred o’ ’em crawled about 
me in a ring like, and jest squatted down, the way they do 
afore they spring at ye. Wal, I saw thet the only chance fur 
me wus ter use stragety. So I jest kept a-watchin’ ’em, and 
all of a sudden one sprung at me frum this side, and anuther 
sprung at me frum thet side. Waj, as the critters sprung, I 
jumped out o’ the way, and I’ll be danged—they had their 
mouths open so wide thet each one o’ ’em swallered t’other. 



4 8 


RED ACRE FARM 


Thet wus what I kalkerlated. Then two more sprang at me, 
one on each side, and I did the trick ag’in ; and I kept on 
doin’ it ’til every dang one o’ them air lions and tigers had 
swallered the other, and thar waren’t one o’ ’em left. Crawl¬ 
ing Codwollopers, but I wus glad. I wus so glad thet I made 
up a song} a-goin’ back ter camp, and when we git in the 
parlor I’ll sing it fur ye. 

Jos. But 1 say, Colonel, ye said thar wus five hundred and 
one o’ them air beasts. Ef they swallered each other by twos, 
what become o’ thet air extra one ? 

Col. Crawling Codwollopers ! I most furgot to tell ye 
about him. It wus this way. As I wus jest a-startin’ fur the 
camp, I heard suthin’ a-sneakin’ up behind me; and when I 
looked back, thar wus thet air one lion, jest a-gittin’ ready to 
spring at me. Wal, sir, I saw thar waren’t no more left but 
him, so I jest pulled out a lookin’-glass thet I happened to 
have in my pocket, and held it up so’s the feller could see in, 
and when he sprang at me, I’ll be danged ef he didn’t svvaller 
hisself. Fact! Cum on in the parlor, and I’ll sing thet air 
song fur ye. 

[Exit l., followed by Jonah, Jun. and villagers. 

Mrs. S. Cum on, Mandy, and you too, Josiah. We’re 
here to cheer ye up a bit. 

Jos. And I reckon ye have succeeded already. I kinder 
begin ter feel thet life is wuth livin’ arter all. 

Mrs. S. Of course it is. [Exit, l. 

Amanda. Oh, Josiah, they wus real good ter cum out on 
sich a night as this ter cheer us up, wusn’t they ? 

Jos. 'Deed they wus, Mandy, and we won’t furgit it. 
(.Knock heard.) Hello, thar must be somebody thet got 
missed, I reckon. ( Goes to d. f. and ope?is it.) Cum right 
in. 

Enter Squire and Har. 


Squire. Good-evening, Josiah. 

Jos. Why, ef it isn’t Hank Harcourt. 

Squire. Yes, it is me. 

Jos. Did ye cum ter the s’prise party, too? 

Squire. What surprise party ? 

Jos. Why, our friends hez cum over to s’prise Mandy and 
me, and cheer us up a bit. 

Squire. Hum ! No, I knew nothing of it. And I am 


RED ACRE FARM 


49 


afraid my mission is not so cheering. I have come about the 
mortgage. 

Jos. Yes, I know. It is due to-morrer. 

Squire. Yes, it is due to-morrow. 

Jos. Wal, Hank, I did try ter do my best, and scrape and 
skimp and save. But ’twaren’t no use ; I didn’t even raise the 
interest. 

Squire. Indeed ! ' 

Jos. But I’ll have it fur ye, never fear about thet. I’ve 
seen Ben Davis, and he ’lows he’ll give me twenty dollars fur 
old Dolly, my sorrel mare. Thet will make enough ter pay the 
interest. Mebbe next spring times will change fur the better. 

Squire. I am sorry, Josiah, but I have got to have not only 
the interest, but the principal as well. 

Jos. {staggering back). Now? 

Squire. By to-morrow. 

Jos. But good God, Hank, I hain’t got it. 

Squire. Then I will have to foreclose. 

(Jos. sinks i?ito a chair and buries his face in his hands.) 

Amanda. Oh, Hank, ye don’t mean thet; surely ye don’t. 
Ye’ll be kind to us a little longer. Ye know we lost thet air 
heirloom, thet we had kalkeiiated to pay it off with. And 
then times got so hard, and Laura ran away, and- 

Har. (turning away). Oh, what is the use of going over 
all that ? 

Amanda. I only wanted ter show the Squire jest how we’ve 
been placed. We spent a heap o’ money a-trying ter find 
Laura, and- 

Har. ( impatiently ). And it was a useless expenditure of 
good coin. I told you when I came home that I had seen her, 
and that she had gone off with that Randall fellow and Nell. 
What was the use of trying to find her? Let her go, and think 
no more about it. 

Amanda (kneeling to Squire). But, Hank, ye won’t fore¬ 
close on us. Tell me ye won’t. Why, we’ve got no place ter 
go. Would ye drive us out inter the storm ? 

Squire. Ah, Amanda, if you had only listened to me forty 
years ago, you might have been spared all this trouble. I 
could have given you everything you wanted. 

Amanda (rising slowly , going to Jos., and putting an arm 
about his neck). No, ye couldn’t, Hank Harcourt. Ye 




50 


RED ACRE FARM 


couldn’t give me Josiah Armstrong’s love, and thet wus all I 
wanted. 

Squire (shrugging his shoulders'). Well, you have made 
your own bed, and you will have to lay in it. 

Amanda. But ye surely won’t drive us out, now. Give us 
’til spring, anyway. Then mebbe Josiah kin git a job some¬ 
where as a farmer’s helper; and I kin try and do washin’. 

Har. We simply cannot wait. I have got to have the 
money. 

Jos. (looking up). You? 

Squire. Yes, yes. You see, while my son was in New 
York some months ago, he—he—that is, he got into some 
financial difficulties, and was compelled to borrow a few thou¬ 
sand dollars on a note. That note comes due to-morrow, and 
I expect the man who holds it to demand his money. I have 
not enough of my own at liberty just now to meet the note. I 
will have to have the money that this place will bring in order 
that I may pay my own obligations. Do you understand ? 

Jos. (sadly). I see. Yes, I understand. 

Amanda. Oh, Josiah, wot shall we do? 

Jos. (rising). Jest you go in the parlor, Hank. The folks 
air in thar enjoyin’ themselves. Don’t let ’em cum out here. 
I want to talk it oyer with Mandy. 

Squire. Very well. [Exit , l. 

Har. But remember, it is the money in full, or we fore¬ 
close; and that is the end of it. [Exit, l. 

Amanda (corning to his side). Oh, Josiah, wot shell 
we do ? 

Jos. I—I—don’t know, Mandy. God help me. I don’t 
care fur myself. But—but—you, Mandy, dear. Oh, Lord, 
ter think thet I have brought ye to beggary in yer old age. I 
—I—almost wish ye had married the Squire, forty years ago. 

Amanda. Don’t talk like thet, Josiah. I’d ruther be with 
you, out in the cold and snow, then live in a palace with him. 

Jos. God bless ye fur them words, Mandy. (Pause.) Out 
in the cold and snow. (Wind heard.) And thar’s whar we 
gotter go. 

Amanda. Don’t ye think we could git him ter wait a little 
longer ? 

Jos. No. Ye heard wot his son said? And I’d ruther 
starve,, and die too, afore I’d ask a favor o’ him. 

Amanda. Yer right, Josiah. (Pause.) And I don’t s’pose 
thar’s any o’ our friends could loan us the money ? 


RED ACRE FARM 


51 


Jos. Four thousand dollars? I reckon not. Thar hain’t 
one o em but wot would do it gladly, ef they had it. But 
they re all poor, same as we are, Mandy. I ’low as thar hain’t 
one o’ ’em as could raise a quarter o’ thet sum. 

Amanda. No, I don’t s’pose they could. (At door , l.) 
And thar they are, a-singin’ and playin’ their games. (Sighs.) 
We’d better not say anything to them about it, Josiah. It 
wouldn't help us, and it would only make ’em feel bad. Let 
’em have their evening’s fun and frolic. ’Tain’t their fault ef 
we hain’t happy too. 

Jos. Yes, I reckon thet will be best. (Apause.) Mandy, 
do ye love me ? 

Amanda. Why, Josiah, wot a question to ask arter all these 
years. Ye know I do. 

Jos. And ye will stand by me, “ ’til death do us part ” ? 

Amanda (coining to him , c., and putting her arms about his 
neck). Indeed I will. Didn’t I promise ye that, nigh onto 
forty years ago ? 

Jos. So ye did, little gal. So ye did. Wal, then, git yer 
things. I reckon he won’t object ef we take with us the clothes 
on our back. 

Amanda. No, I ’low he’ll let us have that much, hard as 
he is. [Exit, r. 

Jos. (glancing hurriedly about stage to assure himself that 
he is alone , then going quickly to chair and dropping on his 
knees). Oh, Lord, Thou thet didst say ye would care fur the 
poor, care fur us now. We’re all alone, Lord, and we’re goin’ 
out inter the storm, Mandy and me. We’ve tried to do wot 
wus about right, Lord, as fur as we knew; and ef we have 
failed sometimes, why please furgive us. And ef one of us 
must die, Lord, make it me. But do take-care o’ my poor 
Mandy, and see thet somebody keeps her arter I’m gone. 
(Pause.) Amen. (Rises .) 

Enter Amanda, r. She has a faded shatvl thrown about her 
shoulders , and an old bonnet on her head. She carries 
Jos.’s hat in her hand. 

Amanda. Now I’m ready, Josiah. Here’s yer hat. 

(Gives it to him.) 

Jos. Wait a minute, Mandy, dear. 

(He takes off his coat.) 


RED ACRE FARM 


52 

Amanda. What air ye goin’ ter do ? 

Jos. I kin stand the cold better’ll you kin, Mandy. You 
take my coat. ( Offers it to her.') 

Amanda. But you, Josiah? Wot, go out in this bitter 
night in yer shirt-sleeves? No, no, I- 

Jos. ( interrupting ). Yes, ye will. It’s my duty to protect 
ye. [Puts coat about her shoulders , then with an arm about 
her , he leads her up stage.) Now we are ready, Mandy. 
{Looks about.) It’s hard ter leave the old place, whar I 
brought ye as a bride, and whar our children wus born. We’ve 
seen life together here, the bitter and the sweet; and I allers 
’lowed thet we’d die here. But thar hain’t anything belongs 
to us now. We’ll go out inter the night and the storm, and 
may the good Lord, who watches over the sparrers, have mercy 
on us, His poor deserted creatures. 

Amanda {solemnly). Amen. ( They near d. f. Enter , 
d. f., Laura, followed by Tom, Nell., and Dick. Pause. 
Tableau.) Laura! 

Laura. Yes, mother, home again. 

Amanda. And—and—Nellie ! 

Jos. Wot! Gal, how dare ye cross this threshold? 

Laura. Stop, father, you shall not touch her until you have 
heard the story I have to tell. 

Jos. But, Laura, she- 

Amanda ( laying a hand on his arm). Josiah, d’ye remem¬ 
ber thet we wus jest about to go out inter the cold—forsaken 
and alone ? And now the good Lord has seen fit to send our 
dear children back to us. Mebbe we did wrong before, Josiah, 
and the Lord is a-goin’ ter give us another chance. 

Jos. Mebbe yer right, Mandy. 

Laura. You are right, mother. 

Nell. Sit down, sister, and let them hear your tale. Per¬ 
haps they will believe in me then. ( All seated.) 

Jos. ( pointing to Tom). But who is this man, and wot right 
has Dick Randall ter be here ? 

Laura. Patience, and hear me through. Six months ago 
we were a united family. Happy? No, I cannot say that. 
For we all had unsatisfied ambitions. You, father and mother, 
were worried over the mortgage, and anxious to see it paid. 
Nell had an ambition—to be a great player. I? Yes, I had 
an ambition too. The most unworthy one of you all. I 
wanted to be rich, to wear fine clothes, and enjoy myself. 
(Jos. makes a gesture of protest.) No, no, do not interrupt. 




red acre farm 


53 


I am making my confession to you, and every word is the sol¬ 
emn truth. There was only one way that I could see of gaining 
that which I sought—through marriage. And there was but 
one mail whom I knew from whom I could expect to reap the 
fulfilment of my ambition—Harry Harcourt. 

Amanda. Hush ! Not so loud. He is in the parlor now. 

Dick. He is ? 

(Starts toward l., but Nell, restrains him.') 

Nell. No, no, Dick. Wait. 

Laura. I tried to win him but failed, because he was en¬ 
amored with Nellie. But after she had refused to listen to his 
blandishments, he sought me, and I, poor weak fool that I was, 
fell an easy prey. 

Jos. Prey? Prey? Gal, wot d’ye mean? 

Laura. Listen. I was wild at the thought of my conquest, 
and sought for some means to make myself more beautiful in 
his eyes. I must have better clothing than you could afford. 
How should I get it? Ah, the tempter pointed out the way. 
I listened, and—and—fell. It was I who stole the heirloom. 

Jos. Wot! Wot! Wot air ye sayin’, gal? You stole the 
necklace ? Ye stole it, and let me drive Nellie frum the house ? 
My curse- 

Amanda. Hush, Josiah. 

Nell. No, no, father. Let us have no more curses. Go 
on, Laura. 

Laura. Yes, let me finish ere my strength gives out. Do 
you remember the night when you found me with my clothing 
packed ? 

Jos. Yes. Ye wus a-goin’ away with- 

Laura. Not with Nell and Dick, as I said then. No, I 
was going away with Harry. 

Amanda. Oh, Laura ! 

Laura. Hush, mother. I have sinned, but I have been 
grievously punished. You stopped me then—or, no, it was Nell, 
my sister, who saved me. Would God I had gone with her 
then. It would have been better—far better for me. But I 
did not. I remained, and after Nell and Dick were gone, the 
tempter returned, and left alone—I succumbed. It was with 
Harry Harcourt I fled. 

Jos. Gal, ef wot ye say is true, I’ll- 

Nell. It is, father. Every word. 

Jos. Then by heaven, I’ll- ( Starts l.) 






54 


RED ACRE FARM 


Tom ( standing in fro?it of d. l.). Go back, Mr. Arm¬ 
strong. I will attend to him. 

Jos. You ? 

Tom. Yes. Wait and you shall see. 

Laura. Why repeat the details of the days that followed ? 
It is but the world-old story. It was not long before he tired 
of me; and deserted, with barely enough to buy bread, I—I— 
don’t know what might have happened. I shudder now to 
think of the possibilities, had not my good angel—the sister 
whom I had driven from home—had she not come to my aid. 
She saved me from destruction, and made a good, a true 
woman of me. 

Amanda. Nellie, how we have wronged you. 

Laura. Yes, Nellie, who has already fought her way up the 
ladder, and is destined to become one of the gieatest actresses 
our stage has ever seen. 

Nell. Oh, tut, tut, Laura. 

Laura. It is true, father. Think of it, she is getting a 
hundred dollars a week now, and is well spoken of by the best 
critics in New York. 

Jos. Lord bless me. 

Laura. And Dick—her husband - 

Jos. Husband ? Oh! 

Laura. He is with her, also achieving great things. You 
will be proud of both of them when you know all. Let me tell 
you what yet remains. It is the happiest part of my whole sad 
story. While with them, I met a man. A man who, like my¬ 
self, had sunk low, but who, like me, Dick and Nell had raised 
from the depths. It was the very man to whom I had sold the 
heirloom. A friendship, born of our mutual experiences, 
sprang up between us, which ripened into true affection ; and 
last night, before we left for home, we were married. Father, 
mother. Let me present my husband. Mr. Busby. 

Jos. And the heirloom ? The necklace ? 

Tom. I never sold it, Mr. Armstrong. Somehow, I felt 
from the very first that all was not right about it, and I kept 
it, intending some day to find out the truth. 

Jos. And wot did become o’ it ? 

Laura (smiling). Do you remember saying once that I 
might get it for a wedding present ? Well, father, I did. Last 
night my husband gave it to me. Here it is. 


(Hands necklace to Jos.) 



RED ACRE FARM 


55 


Jos. No, no, you kin keep it. 

Laura. Not with the stain of theft upon it. Take it, 
father. 

Amanda. And praise the Lord, now we kin pay off the 
mortgage, Josiah. 

Jos. Why so we kin, Mandy. Why, I feel like shoutin’ fur 

joy- 

Enter Squire and Har., l. 

Squire. I cannot stay any longer- Oh, I beg your 

pardon. 

Har. What ? Laura ? 

Laura. Yes. 

Jos. Yes, Laura. The gal ye tried to lead to destruction. 
The gal- 

Squire. Let us have done with all this. If my son has 
done aught with which you are displeased, you have your re¬ 
course to the courts—after I have foreclosed the mortgage. 

Har. Yes, but a beggar may find it a hard matter to find 
a lawyer to take his case. 

Jos. Ye won’t foreclose on me, Hank Harcourt. Thar’s 
the necklace. Grandmother Baird’s heirloom. I’ve got it 
back at last, and it’s yours ter pay off the mortgage. 

Squire ( taking the necklace'). Zounds ! Oh, very well. It 
seems that at last luck has turned in your favor. 

Jos. Don’t say luck, Hank. It’s Providence, thet’s wot 
it is. 

Squire. Providence ? Tush! Come, Harry. 

Tom. Wait a moment, if you please. 

Har. What? Busby, too? 

Tom. Yes, Busby, too. (To Squire.) I have a note 
against your son for four thousand dollars. He got it from me 
while he was gambling in New York. 

Jos. Gamblin’. The scoundrel! 

Tom. It comes due to-morrow, and as you have very good 
collateral, you might as well pay it now. I’ll take that neck¬ 
lace. 

Squire (after a pause). All right. Take it. 

( Gives him the necklace.) 

Tom. Ah, thank you. There is your son’s note. 

(Gives paper.) 




56 


RED ACRE FARM 


Squire. Come, Harry. 

Jos. Yes, go, Hank Harcourt. I thank the good Lord 
thet I’m free frum yer clutches at last. 

Har. {sneeringly). And with two such daughters as- 

Dick ( threateningly ). Take care, sir. Do not forget that 
you are speaking of my wife. 

Tom. And mine. 

Har. Eh ? 

Tom. Yes. I have righted the wrong. Your note is paid. 
So is Mr. Armstrong’s mortgage. {Points.) There is- the 
door. (Squire and Har. exeunt , d. f.) And now, Laura, 
my wife, I will make you another wedding present. 

{Gives her the necklace.) 

Laura. Thank you. But I shall remain here with father 
and mother, and try to be a more dutiful daughter in the future 
than I was in the past. You remember you promised that we 
should become farmers. 

Tom. And I agree. I will go anywhere, do anything for 
you. 

Laura. Then pearls would not befit a farmer’s wife. They 
belong here. 

{She goes up and drops the necklace over Nell.’s neck.) 

Nell. Oh, Laura. {They embrace.) 

Enter Mrs. S., l. 

Mrs. S. Fur heaven’s sake, Mandy, hain’t ye never 

cumin’- {Discovers the others.) Why—why—Laura 

back ag’in? And Nell—and Dick—and- {Turns and 

calls off l.) Barnaby, Junior, Jonah, everybody, cum and 
see who’s here. 

Enter Col., Jun., Jonah and villagers , l. 

Jos. Yes, friends. The prodigals hez returned and been 
forgiven. We’re a happy, united family at last, and I’m so 
full o’ joy thet I feel young ag’in. Come, Holcomb. Ye’ve 
got yer fiddle with ye. Strike up a reel, and Mandy and me’ll 
show ye how we uster dance, forty years ago. 

(Holcomb strikes up a reel. Jos. and Amanda take the 
first figure complete , the rest joining in. As the second 
couple begins, the curtain falls.) 





8. W. Pttero’s Paps 

price, 50 Cent# <£act> 


THE M AfilSTRATF ®' arce * n Tl iree Acts. Twelve males, four 
1IIC H l\ L females. Costumes, modern; scenery, all 

interior. Plays two hours and a half. 

THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH 

Costumes, modern; scenery, all interiors PI ys a tull evening. 

THF PRftFT UlATF Four Acts oeven males, five females. 

* **** rHUrif U h Scenery, three interiors, rather elaborate ; 

costumes, modern. Plays a full evening. 

THE SCHOOLMISTRESS 

three interiors. Plays a full evening. 

THE SECOND MRS. TANQCERAY £5X 

tumes, modern; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. 

SWFFT T iVFNDFR Comedy in Three Acts. Seven males, four 
JTtECI f em ales. Scene, a single interior; costumes, 

modern. Plays a full evening. 

THF TIIMFS Comed y in Four Acts. Six males, seven females. 
IIIE 111T1LJ Scene, a single interior; costumes, modern. Plays a 


full evening. 


THF WFA¥FR SFX Comedy in Three Acts. Eight males, eight 
i 11C TT CAftCB JCA females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two 

interiors. Plays a full evening. 

A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE ~ ZgZ'ZJZ. 

modern; scene, a single interior. Plays a full evening. 


One copy del. to Cat. Div. 


of price by 

: Company 

>n, Massachusetts 


MAr 2\ mp 




















LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 


i 


0 017 400 839 


Ci)e l^tUtam barren Cbttton 

of Paps 


price, 15 €mt0 <£acl) 


A C YOU I IlTp IT Comedy in Five Acts. Thirteen males, four 
A3 1UU liftli II females. Costumes, picturesque; scenery, va¬ 


ried. Plays a full evening. 


C A MIT IF Drama in Five Acts. Nine males, five females. Cos- 
vAllilLflL > fumes, modern ; scenery, varied. Plays a full evening. 


INfiOMAR Play i n Five Acts. Thirteen males, three females. 
llilIUiTiAI\ Scenery varied; costumes, Greek. Plays a full evening. 


If ARY STUART Tragedy in Five Acts. Thirteen males, four fe- 
iuAI\ 1 iJlUAIll males, and supernumeraries. Costumes, of the 
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THE MERCHANT OF VENICE males, three females. Costumes, 

ipicturesque ; scenery varied. Plays a full evening. 


RICHELIEU Play in Five Acts. Fifteen males, two females. Scen- 


evening. 


ery elaborate; costumes of the period. Plays a fulj 


THE PIVAI S Comedy in Five Acts. Nine males, five females. 
IIIL III T AbJ Scenery varied; costumes of the period. Plays a 
full evening. 


CHG CTAOP^ TA fANAIIPR Comedy in Five Acts. Fifteen 
iJlIL JlUUliJ 1U vUnyDUV males, four females. Scenery va¬ 
ried ; costumes of the period. Plays a full evening. 


TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL i omedy in , ive 


Acts. Ten males, 

three females. Costumes, picturesque ; scenery, varied. Plays a 
full evening. 


Sent prepaid on receipt of price by 

Walter LF iBafter a Company 

No. 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts 


5 ! 


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